Close Call
by drjekyllmshyde
Summary: During a widespread blackout, Agent Mulder has a brush with death. No longer a one-shot! Now completed!
1. Chapter 1

After medical school and her time with the FBI, it was rare for Dana Scully to lose her composure even under the greatest pressure. The soft whistling sound coming from her partner's chest had her so rattled she could hardly keep her hands steady.

It had all happened so quickly. The man they had been chasing rounded like a cornered animal and attacked just as ferociously. Three shots were fired, and all three would have hit their marks if it were not for agent Mulder's quick actions. In the swift movement of pushing his partner to the floor, did not have time to dodge the final bullet that was now lodged in his chest. By the time Scully got to her feet, the assailant had vanished down the fire escape of the four story office building. She would be reprimanded for not pursuing the suspect, but that thought never crossed the agent's mind as she called for an ambulance on her cellular phone hoping that the cell phone towers were not affected by the city-wide blackout.

"Dammit Fox!"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" Even with a bullet hole in his chest, he still had his sense of humor. Scully couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad sign. At least he could still talk, she thought to herself, even if his breathing was labored.

He had been injured before; they both had. It was an assumed risk of the job that an agent might be kidnapped, shot, stabbed, or worse. In the past however there were always resources; other agents to call for assistance, medical supplies readily available, or at least the option to call the paramedics to bring necessary supplies and deliver the injured to a hospital. This time, agents Mulder and Scully had been completely alone in chasing the suspect through a dark and emptied office building.

It would be at least five minutes before paramedics would arrive, and at least another two more for them to climb the stairs to the fourth floor of the office building. That was seven minutes Mulder did not have. If the sucking wound in his chest was not patched immediately, his lung would collapse and there was a good chance Scully would lose her partner either to infection, shock, or suffocation.

She tore off the blood stained shirt with surprising vigor for a woman of her size, and pressed the crumpled up fabric firmly against the wound.

"Keep pressure on this, and don't move."

"I'm not going anywhere, Doc."

Tearing herself from her partner's side, Scully rummaged through the nearest cubicle praying for even the smallest of first aid kits. When her prayers went unanswered, she reached for the next best thing.

Working quickly, Scully fashioned a patch for the wound to restore the negative pressure to the chest cavity, duct taping three of the four side of a sandwich bag over the hole. The whistling sound stopped, but Mulder was not out of the woods yet. He was still losing a considerable amount of blood by the minute, much of it now covering the sleeves of his impromptu physician.

When the paramedics arrived twenty minutes after the shooting, agent Scully had lost her composure. She was barely able to contain tears of frustration and panic as she pumped all her weight rhythmically onto the fallen agent's chest, stopping only to give him every breath of air she had in her lungs.

When Mulder woke up, he was blissfully unaware of how serious the past five hours had been. By the time the paramedics had fought their way through the clogged roadways Agent Mulder had been dead for nearly two minutes, his lung having collapsed under the weight of the blood that had filled his chest cavity, in spite of the make-shift occlusion patch his partner had applied.

No one in the hospital doubted that agent Scully's quick thinking and persistence in the office building had saved her partner's life. Fox Mulder should have been pronounced dead minutes after receiving such a severe injury. Fortunately the hospital's backup generator had not been affected by the blackout, and the surgery went about as smoothly as it could have gone considering the condition the patient was in by the time he had been admitted nearly forty minutes after being shot in the chest.

It took a few minutes for Mulder's eyes to adjust to the brightness of the recovery room as he looked around in a feeble attempt get his bearings. It was bland and sterile, a hospital no doubt. The most prominent feature of the room was the petite redheaded woman dressed in surgical scrubs, curled up in a chair staring at a case file more than reading it.

When she noticed movement from the hospital bed, Scully nearly threw the case file aside in her haste to be at Mulder's side. "Keep still, you'll tear your stitches. The anesthetics are wearing off, how do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a truck," Well that explained the growing headache and chest pain. "What happened? The last thing I remember was running Jackson into a corner,"

"He had a gun. I was in front of you, but you pushed me to the ground and caught a bullet yourself. It took almost twenty minutes for the ambulance to get to you in the blackout, I had to use duct tape and a ziplock bag to cover the wound…" She ran a hand over her hair, clearly stressed just recalling the incident.

"Duct tape really does fix everything. Did you catch him? Do we know yet what caused the blackout?"

If he weren't lying in a hospital bed she would have hit him. "No, I was too busy trying to keep you alive. The power is returning to a few blocks at a time, but the power companies still have no explanation as to why they went down in the first place."

"What side of the city is the power up in?"

Scully consulted her charts. "The northern portions, more so in the north west. Why?"

"Our guy is moving south east. The further away he gets the less effect he can have on the power grids," He coughed heavily, and flecks of blood appeared on the bandages on his chest.

"Mulder, stop this. You've still got a ways to go before we can start chasing after anyone. I'm passing the case on to local officials until you recover. Sit still," Slipping on a pair of gloves, Scully moved to check the stitches and stop the minor bleeding her partner had induced in his enthusiasm.

"We're the only ones who have Jackson listed as a suspect, locals officials think it's just a random power - ow! Hey, would you at least numb me up first?"

Scully tied off the extra suture she had added to prevent further bleeding and sighed, ignoring his protest. "What if it _was _just a random power outage? We can't prove Jackson's responsible for anything except evading and shooting a federal agent. There's no trace evidence indicating he's responsible for the robberies during the blackout, and there's even less evidence that he caused the power outage,"

"He'll move, change his name, pick up another job at another power company and do the same thing all over again. There are hundreds of reported Sliders in the files, causing everything from street lamp interference, to broken credit card machines, to power outages. Most of them don't even realize they're capable of it, this guy does. This is the biggest Slider anomaly I've ever seen - Forget robbery, he could be extremely dangerous if he moves near a major airport or nuclear power plant,"

"Oliver Jackson is the least of your worries if you don't stop talking and get some rest," Scully glared at him hard, and Mulder sighed in defeat. She immediately regretted taking such a harsh tone with him, and pulled up her chair by his bedside.

There was quiet for a few minutes before Mulder spoke again. "You know, Scrubs are a good look for you, Scully."

"Hospital gowns are a good look for _you_, Mulder."

"I always knew you liked me for my ass," he chuckled when she rolled her eyes. "Where are your clothes?"

"They're ruined; I haven't had time to make it back to the motel and change. Which reminds me, you owe me a new outfit."

Mulder inspected the expertly bandaged wound, "By the look of things I owe you more than that."

"Don't start, I stopped keeping score a long time ago," she promised, angling the chair adjacent to the bed, she propped up her feet on the bedside and leaned back, closing her eyes. "Hey Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated briefly, wondering if she should say what was really on her mind or to make it brief. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow! I'm more than a little surprised people are still reading this 10 months later! It's even been favorited a few times! Because of the positive response, I decided to continue the story. I'll try and post once every other day, but I'm sick, in school, and writing another fic at the moment, so that's a very loose timeline. Please review and let me know how you like it, any suggestions/comments/constructive feedback, you know the drill. Thanks again for reading!

* * *

Scully and Mulder had only been back in Virginia for seven hours when Scully began to write up her report on the Portland robberies and city-wide power outage. She sat at her computer with a large glass of red wine that two hours later remained untouched as she wrote stream-of conscience about the run in with Oliver Jackson and the injury Mulder had sustained in the chase.

The redhead's thoughts were broken when a small window appeared on her screen.

"GeorgeHale invites you to a chat," she read aloud, with a quirked brow. How had Mulder gotten ahold of her private account? Her sister had set it up so they could stay in touch, but it had gone unused since Melissa Scully's death some months earlier, and she had never once done more than exchange e-mails on it. Chatting was a new thing entirely.

Scully hit enter and the chat window opened. Leaning back in her chair, she couldn't help but roll her eyes fondly at the message.

_GeorgeHale: Starbuck huh? Cute. I was expecting sxyredhead31 or something._

_Starbuck: It's midnight, you should be in bed._

_GeorgeHale: I could say the same of you._

_Starbuck: How did you find me?_

_GeorgeHale: You'd be surprised how bad AOL's security is._

Scully rolled her eyes; she should have guessed.

_Starbuck: What are you doing up?_

_GeorgeHale: I can afford a little insomnia while I'm on medical leave. You?_

_Starbuck: Trying to see if I can bill your insurance for saving your life_.

She was teasing of course, and she could almost see Mulder's charming smile through the screen.

_GeorgeHale: You're working in that ratty old U of M shirt and sweats aren't you?_

Scully laughed and looked down at the boxy, but comfortable Maryland shirt she had gotten a decade before at her alma matter.

_Starbuck: Close. No sweats._

_GeorgeHale: I'll be over in ten._

Another eye roll.

_Starbuck: Not what I meant. What do you want?_

_GeorgeHale: I have a present for you actually._

A red brow quirked over blue eyes, and she quickly checked the calendar. She hadn't forgotten her birthday again…

_Starbuck: What for?_

_GeorgeHale: Come over and see._

When Scully didn't answer, the screen flashed again.

_GeorgeHale: I can hear you sighing all the way from here. What do you have better to do?_

_Starbuck: Fine. I'll be over in twenty._

With that Scully saved her work and shut down the computer, moving to change into more decent clothes before making the drive over to Mulder's apartment. She parked and moved up the stairs as she had done a hundred times before, finding Apartment 42 by habit and knocking quiet enough to not wake the neighbors.

Mulder opened the door after a quick peer through the peep hole stepping back to let his partner inside the apartment… which was surprisingly clean, Scully noted.

"You actually picked up. I'm impressed," she remarked before turning to the considerably taller man.

"Yeah insomnia sucks sometimes," he told her, and Scully knew if he had been motivated to clean he must really have been struggling.

"Is it the pain meds? I can change the dosage if you want."

"Yeah that's probably part of it."

"And the other part?"

"Too excited to sleep," he grinned wolfishly, causing Scully to raise a brow and follow him to the kitchen of the tiny apartment. Mulder stopped her as she attempted to move into the room. "Wait. Close your eyes."

"Mulder, it's too late for games."

"Please?"

Scully regarded him for a moment and begrudgingly closed her eyes. She simply couldn't say no to those soft brown eyes and involuntary pout. Mulder vanished for a moment before returning and pulling her into the kitchen, eyes still closed. He angled her just so before stepping back. "Okay, you can open your eyes."

Doing as she was told, Scully opened her eyes and was greeted with the sight of a single cupcake, modestly wrapped in paper with a single lit candle protruding from its center.

"Well?" Mulder pried, clearly very proud of his handiwork.

"…I'm definitely going to be adjusting your medication in the morning."

"My oven's broken. It took me three batches just to get one that was edible!" Mulder lamented.

"But why did you try making cupcakes anyway?"

"It's our anniversary."

"…Beg your pardon?"

"It's been four years since you got assigned to keep an eye on me. I thought it was probably safe to start celebrating."

For all its foolishness, Scully couldn't help but smile. She had no idea he paid attention to such a seemingly minute thing… though really, was it so minute? That day had changed both of their lives, for better or for worse. Because of her work on the X-Files, Scully had been physically, emotionally, and spiritually challenged more than any other time in her life. She had been involved in countless mysteries, most of which she could still not fully explain, including her own mysterious disappearance reappearance nearly two years prior. In spite of the hardships of the job, she loved her work. She loved being forced to think outside of the box and challenging herself intellectually on a daily basis.

She loved that she got to work closely every day with her best friend. How many people could say that?

Mulder smiled broadly upon seeing her reflection and pulled her over to the table to sit. "Would you like the honors?" He offered, gesturing at the candle as he grabbed two forks before sitting across from her.

"After you worked so hard? I think you ought to," she insisted, accepting a fork with a smile.

"Together?"

Scully nodded. "Together."

After counting down from three, the pair leaned in and blew out the little candle with ease. Scully took the candle and licked frosting covered base.

"Mm, Betty Crocker. Excellent choice," she told him, the small smile on her lips magnified in her eyes.

"Only the best. If I made it from scratch we'd both wind up with food poisoning. Dig in."

Within only seconds the small cake was gone, and Scully sat back in her chair with amusion.

"Well, that was the best half of a cupcake I've ever had."

"Seriously, I'm considering a career change," he grinned, and Scully laughed.

"Yeah well, don't quit your day job," she teased, picking up the plate and forks and carrying it to the sink.

"That hurts, Scully! You really think I'm a better Federal Agent than a baker? I'm a really horrible agent."

"No you're not," she promised. "Just… unorthodox," Scully said, though that was putting it lightly. "If you were a horrible agent we wouldn't be celebrating four years together, would we?"

"I guess you're right," he relented. "Want some wine or something?"

Scully checked her watch and frowned a little. "It's one in the morning, I have to present our findings at ten."

"So you have plenty of time for a bottle," Mulder announced, moving to one of the cabinets next to her at the sink, brushing against her some as he reached and pulled down a bottle of cabernet. Scully turned and leaned against the sink. She never did drink the glass she had out at home.

"All right fine. One glass, that's it. You shouldn't drink though; it might interfere with your medication."

"One glass won't kill me," he promised, setting two glasses on the table and pouring out equal portions before shoving the cork back into the bottle. He moved into the main room and flopped onto the sofa, holding out the second glass for his partner as he took a sip from his own. Scully followed and sat next to him, folding her leg up under her and accepting the glass. The pair reflected on their time together quietly, and before either of them knew it one glass of wine turned into two, two glasses of wine turned into two glasses of wine and two glasses of scotch.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," Mulder announced, topping off her glass in spite of her protest.

"Mulder that's plenty! What can you possible not know about me after putting up with me for four years."

"If I knew, then it wouldn't be something I didn't know about you," he pointed out, pausing for a moment to make sure that made sense before nodding to himself, content that it did.

"Fine," she relented, sipping at her scotch as she thought. "I have these nightmares sometimes. I can never remember the details of them, just the major points. They don't really scare me as much as they wake me up with a really overwhelming sense of sadness. I'd almost rather they scare me," Scully admitted, watching the ice in her glass slowly grow glossier as it melted.

"What are the major points, then?"

"Everyone I've ever loved is dead, and I'm all alone," she frowned some, causing Mulder to do the same.

The man was quiet for a moment before taking a long drink and venturing to speak. "Am I on that list?"

"What?"

"Of everyone you've ever loved. Do I die in your dream too?"

Scully nodded. "Yes. I don't know how or why you die, but I remember the feeling that I didn't even have you to go to anymore-" Scully paused, suddenly realizing that she had put Mulder on her list of people in her life she loved. She hoped desperately that he was too drunk and medicated to think anything of it, but looking to him she could see very clearly that he had caught her slip up. She opened her mouth to try and say something, anything to remedy the situation.

Before any words were spoken, Mulder leaned forward and placed his lips gently on hers. Scully's heart raced in her chest as she returned the gesture, eyes closing languidly before the sweet smell of scotch on their mingling breath snapped her into awareness.

"You're drunk –"

"Am not," he defended. "You might be though, you're half my size."

"You're on drugs."

"You say that like I don't have a bullet hole in my chest," he defended again, cupping her cheek and moving to kiss her again, but this time she turned.

"This isn't right, Fox."

"Don't call me that, you know I hate my name."

"Don't change the subject!" She demanded, rubbing her face with frustration.

"Okay, fine. Why isn't it right? It sure felt right to me. More right than breathing," Mulder whispered, pushing a bit of red hair behind her ear. Scully shuttered visibly at his touch.

"We're not sober-"

"Isn't that supposed to release inhibitions?"

"I… in case you've forgotten, Mulder, we work together. Every day. We need each other to be as clear headed and unbiased as possible for this to work. The odds are already staked against us, the entire Bureau thinks we're a joke-"

Mulder finally managed to kiss Scully again while she was distracted with her worried. This time, she did not turn away. He caressed her cheek tenderly and Scully seemed to lean into the touch involuntarily.

"I'd say pretending like we're only colleagues is more dangerous than admitting there's something here. I for one am willing to give it a shot. I think we're both mature enough to make this work, and if we can't I'm sure we're adult enough to not let it get in the way of our work."

Before Scully could offer a counter argument, Mulder kissed her again, and then again, until the petite woman couldn't help but kiss him back.

When Mulder woke in the morning, he was alone and naked in the tangled sheets with a massive headache but a light heart. Two small pieces of paper sat on the pillow next to him, both with Scully's neat penmanship on the pages.

The first piece of paper was a prescription for a low dose of vicodin rather than oxycontin, but the second paper made Agent Mulder laugh.

_"Presenting to the Bureau at ten, left early to change. There's eggs in the pan on the stove and a bottle of aspirin on the counter by the sink._

_-Scully_

_P.S. I added condoms to your shopping list. The spare in your wallet from 1990 isn't going to cut it."_


	3. Chapter 3

"Mulder, it's me. Where are you?"

The familiar sound of Scully's voice on phone instantly put a private smile on the man's face as he reached into a glass case to examine the date on a half gallon of milk.

"I'm just at the store. I figured I should start keeping real food around the house if I'm going to be having company over more often. Plus there was that extra thing you put on my list-"

"How soon can you be back? I'm heading to your apartment, I really need to see you."

The urgency in his partner's voice concerned him. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. I got a lead on the Portland case. Jackson's been spotted."

"I'll see you in a minute," Mulder said quickly, hanging up the phone and abandoning his cart and all but jogging up the street to his apartment. Scully was waiting for him when he got to the door and let them in.

"I was just about to leave the office when I noticed the answering machine was flashing. I was the all day, they must have called when I was with Skinner. Spotted a nine AM pacific standard time yesterday. I'll give you three guesses where."

"Powerplant, airport, or major power grid."

"Not even close. What do you know about the University of California in San Diego?"

"Not much, just that it's got a great medical school. He was spotted on the campus?"

Scully nodded. "He enrolled in a course. Under the name William Scully."

Mulder's eyes widened. "How-"

"I checked my computers, my files, my wallet, the only thing I can think of is that credit card that got stolen a month ago, when we first got into Portland. Nothing else is out of place."

"What course is he enrolled in?"

"Physics 1B. Electricity and Magnetism," she said, and Mulder's lips pursed.

"I'll book the tickets."

"Ticket. You still can't fly, Mulder."

"But it took days to drive from Portland, it'll take even longer to get to San Diego!"

"I know. I'm going alone."

Mulder shook his head. "That's not happening, Scully."

"I don't care if you want it to happen or not, one of us needs to oversee the authorities there and if you get on a plane before your lung is fully healed it will collapse. You don't want that to happen in the air even less than you want it to happen on the ground."

"So we'll drive."

"By then he'll know we're onto him and run again. He's playing games with us, Mulder. He used my father's name to enroll at a massive university, while his picture is all over the news for shooting a federal agent!"

"That is exactly why I don't want you going alone. He wants us to know where he is, and he wants us to come after him. And you're going to walk right up to him and shake his hand!"

Scully glared at him some. "Don't give me that as if you wouldn't do the same, as if you haven't done the same. He shot you, Mulder. Last night almost didn't happen because of that man; I want to make damn sure he's put away for life."

"I'm going to talk to Skinner about this-"

"I already got clearance, the flight is booked. Wednesday at nine am is the next class, I'm already in contact with the professor and the campus and city police."

Mulder set his jaw. "So why did you come by and tell me all this if you've got everything so set in stone?"

"Because I thought you would want to know the case is still open, and that we're going to get the man who almost killed you. Because I feel so… violated Jackson is using my _father's_ name. I didn't know who else to share this with."

The man sat hard on the sofa with a frustrated sigh, running his hands through his hair until it stood on end. Scully sat beside him and attempted to change the subject.

"I thought you said you were at the store."

"I was."

"You didn't bring anything back. And you're in pajamas."

"I was in a hurry to get back. And I didn't think I'd be having company two nights in a row or I would have stayed dressed."

Scully sighed a little. "Take off your shirt," she commanded, and Mulder raised a brow at her.

"Wow, where was this Scully last night?"

"I want to take a look at your stitches. Maybe if you're lucky enough they're healed enough to fly and you'll quit acting like a big baby."

Mulder obeyed, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. Carefully Scully peeled off the bandaging to inspect the surgeon's handiwork.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only when I strain it. I tried lifting weights this morning, so it's a little more sore than it was last night."

Scully stared at him incredulously. "Why on earth did you go lifting weights, I told you nothing heavier than a gallon of milk!"

"Excuse me for wanting to stay cut for you, Your Highness," he quipped, and Scully shook her head.

"I'd rather you not tear all your stitches out."

"I didn't, did I?"

Scully inspected the stitches carefully. "You pulled a few, but nothing's completely out. You're definitely not healed enough to fly yet, though. It'll be another month at least before you can get on a plane without worries."

Mulder leaned his head back against the back of the sofa, clearly quite frustrated.

"Mind if I check my e-mail?" Scully asked, and Mulder shook his head without pulling it off the back of the sofa.

"Nah, go ahead."

"Thanks."

Scully moved to the computer and logged in, amused that even after she had discovered his password (TRUST NO1) he had not bothered to change it. It seemed to Scully there were certain exceptions to that rule.

"I'm going to order take out, want anything?"

"Yeah, sounds good. I haven't eaten all day," Scully told him, jotting down flight information from the computer screen to her planner.

When Scully was done with her errands and Mulder with his, Mulder finally called attention to the elephant in the room.

"So are you going to acknowledge that last night actually happened or what?"

"My note wasn't cheeky enough?"

"Not as cheeky as it could have been," he smirked, and Scully rolled her eyes fondly.

"Well. What do you want to talk about?"

"How great it was, for starters."

"I'm surprised you think so, you were on an interesting cocktail last night."

"I woke up with a helluva headache, but that doesn't mean I wasn't feeling good last night," Mulder defended. "Thanks for the aspirin by the way."

"Any time."

"So was last night a onetime thing?" Mulder finally ventured.

Scully moved to sit beside him again on the sofa. "I don't know. Do we want it to be a onetime thing?" Mulder gave her a look and instantly she knew it was a stupid question. "Okay, so we don't want it to be a onetime thing. Can we afford for it to be a regular thing?"

"I think we can, if we're smart about it. I didn't mean to put down your concerns last night; we are going to have to be careful separating work and… this."

"What exactly is 'this' though?" Scully asked, not entirely sure if she wanted the answer. There had been an undeniable attraction between them for quite some time, but did it extend beyond sex? Scully couldn't pretend she wasn't physically attracted to her partner… but she also couldn't pretend he wasn't in every way attracted to him.

"Well… I don't know. Friends with benefits might be easier."

"You don't get enough of that from your pornography collection?" Scully asked, more coldly than she had meant.

"Ouch, that was harsh," he retorted. "Do I detect a hint of defensiveness?"

"You're not suggesting I'm jealous of your porn collection, are you?"

"If the boot fits-"

Scully had not expected to be called on her bluff, and was thankfully saved by a knock at the door. She stood and peered through the peephole before opening the door and paying for their food. Returning to the sofa, Scully pulled her legs up under her and handed Mulder a carton and a pair of chopsticks before taking one for herself and picking delicately at its contents.

"You never answered my question," Mulder remarked, taking a bite of chicken.

"What question was that?"

"Friends with benefits might be easier."

"That wasn't a question," Scully pointed out, taking a bite herself.

"Okay fine. Do you think friends with benefits would be easier?"

"Yes, I do," Scully admitted. "From a work standpoint at least. It's very… practical. We're clearly attracted to each other, and we're close enough to know the boundaries. We have no STDs, having a single partner reduces the risk of _getting _STDs, knowing we're doubling up on protection will prevent unwanted pregnancies –"

"Are we too close, though?" Mulder asked. "I don't know if you were serious last night when you put me on that list-"

"I'd been drinking," she pointed out.

"That doesn't really answer my question. Are we too close to just sleep together?"

Scully was quiet for a long moment, picking at her carton but never taking a piece. "I can't speak for you… but I think I might be," she finally said, not daring to look at him for fear of embarrassment.

"Me too," Mulder admitted, and finally Scully turned to watch him.

"So what do we do?"

"L'Orfeo's playing at the Met this weekend. Want to go?"

The petite red head was quiet for a moment before finally nodding. "Sure. I should be back from San Diego on Friday. Since when do you like the Opera?"

"Since it turned into a date."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Holy cow! I cannot BELIEVE how many visitors this story has gotten since I posted chapter two earlier today. 75 visitors and 152 hits in mere hours! That beats even my most popular Phantom fanfiction by a landslide. To thank you for reading I decided to put up a second chapter today! Well it might not be two in one day for most of you since it's already late o'clock PST, but it's two in a day for me. Don't expect this too often!


	4. Chapter 4

The following morning, Scully was on a plane to San Diego, California without her partner. Part of her was concerned about his absence. The suspect was very clearly capable of gunning down a federal agent, after all. If it hadn't been for Mulder, she would be the one with a gaping chest wound, or worse. She wouldn't be alone in the manhunt, of course, but there was no one she trusted to watch her back more than Mulder.

When she stepped off the plan, an agent from the local branch of the FBI stepped forward to greet her. The man was of average height with a solid build with small, dark eyes not unlike her partner's. "Agent Scully, I'm Agent Craig Schepmann, I'll be your interim partner for this case. We were sorry to hear Agent Mulder couldn't make it. Is he recovering well?"

"Yes, but the case was too time-sensitive to drive him out," Scully promised, shaking the man's hand politely when it was offered. "Bring me up to speed."

"Oliver Jackson aka William Scully has been attending UC San Diego since the winter term started just under a week ago. He had to jump through a few hoops to get into a second-term physics course without the prerequisites, but the professor says he's a very bright student."

Scully nodded. "Dr. Anderson is the one who called in the sighting, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. He thought Jackson looked familiar when he requested to add the class without the prerequisites, and put two and two together when the composite sketch came on the news. He's been very cooperative."

"Good. The next class is tomorrow at nine in the morning, is that right?"

"That is correct. If you're still on board we're going to secure the building and wait for him outside. It should be an easy catch, we'll have you back at Quantico in no time," Agent Schepmann promised, opening the car door for Scully to allow her to step inside.

"It sounds easy enough, but I urge you to tell your men not to underestimate Jackson. Odds are he's armed, and he could be more dangerous than he appears."

"Agent Scully, there's something that's been bothering me ever since this case came to our office. Why did the FBI get involved with Jackson anyway? Until he shot your partner he had a squeaky clean record-"

Scully pursed her lips in hesitation for a moment. "Agent Mulder suspected he was the cause of the blackouts in the Pacific Northwest."

"But those were all confirmed systems failures, weren't they? They're saying there was no human involvement at all, something about a sun flare-"

Scully brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear and nodded. "They were."

"So why-"

"Does it matter now, Agent Schepmann? The warrant for Jackson's arrest is for shooting a federal agent. That is my primary concern with him at this time, and it should be yours too."

Agent Schepmann held up a hand defensively as he came to a stop in front of a middle of the road hotel downtown. "I'll pick you up first thing in the morning, Agent Scully. Pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Agent," Scully promised, though she was clearly eager to be inside and alone again. Carrying her back upstairs to her room, Scully stretched and picked up the phone to dial Mulder's number from memory.

"Mulder," came a voice on the other end of the line sounding half asleep. Scully looked at the clock – seven in the evening here meant it was only ten in Virginia.

"Were you asleep already?"

"No," Mulder lied, sitting up in bed and yawning away from the phone. "Where are you? I thought your plane landed forty five minutes ago."

"It did, I'm at the hotel now. I would have called sooner but my "interim partner" was bringing me up to speed. How do you feel?"

"Not bad. That vicodin you put me on knocks me right out."

Scully smiled some. "So you were sleeping."

"Just a little. So what's the plan?"

"Tomorrow at nine is the next class. We're going to grab him on the way out. Agent Schepmann expects it to go smoothly."

"Don't be so sure. Scully I was reading up on the campus today. Did you know there's a massive energy generation and storage facility right by the physics building?"

Scully frowned some. "What are you suggesting, Mulder?"

"If he can do more than just draw power, if he can input power, the whole thing could potentially blow. Not to mention all of those labs are equipped with gas lines."

"Mulder we have no evidence to suggest he can do anything like what you're suggesting. We still have no evidence he was at all involved in the power outage, and the evidence we have that he robbed that bank in Portland is circumstantial at best. All we can prove is that he ran from federal authority and shot a federal agent. That's it. Now suddenly he can make buildings explode-"

"Just be careful, Scully. I went grocery shopping today; if a whole pack of condoms goes to waste because you were blown to a hundred pieces on the west coast, I will never forgive you."

"How charming," Scully remarked with dry amusion.

"Just come back in one piece, okay?"

"I will do my best," she promised, laying back on the bed.

"Wish I was there."

"Yeah. So do I."

"What are you up to tonight?"

"I planned on studying the map of the university in case something goes wrong tomorrow and we lose him. It's something like six square miles."

Mulder whistled into the phone. "Well on the plus side I guess he won't know it any better than you do."

"That's my thought. I want to know it better than he does by morning."

"What else are you doing tonight?" Mulder asked, his voice a little huskier. It nearly caused Scully to laugh into the phone.

"Just working," she said, deliberately playing coy. "What else should I be doing?"

"Curling up in bed with me is what," Mulder remarked. "I wish I was there."

"You already said that."

"Doesn't make it any less true the second time."

Scully smiled. "Are you going to be able to pick me up from the airport on Friday?"

"Sure, just send me your flight information. Does that mean we're still on for the opera on Saturday?"

"If this goes as smoothly as Agent Schepmann thinks it will, sure. If it goes as horribly as you think it will –"

"Let's hope Agent Schepmann is right then huh?"

Scully nodded even though Mulder couldn't see the gesture over the phone. "Listen I'm going to go take a shower and get working on this map, but I'll keep you posted."

"See? I knew something good was going on tonight," Mulder quipped, and Scully rolled her eyes fondly.

"Yeah, plastic shower curtains and a no-slip mat. Very sexy."

"Hey, if you're in it, it's going to be sexy," Mulder promised. Scully couldn't help but smile.

"Goodnight, Mulder."

"Hey Scully? Be safe out there," Mulder told her in a tone that made Scully a little nervous. This wasn't simply Mulder's jealousy that she was on a case without him. This was legitimate concern.

"I will, Mulder. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks. 'Night."

"Goodnight, Mulder."

* * *

Mulder paced in his room like a wild animal Wednesday night. It was nearly eight in the evening and Scully still hadn't called. The arrest should have been made hours ago. The television was turned to the national news, but nothing from San Diego made any report; if something bad had happened, it hadn't been big enough to make headlines. This was the only bit of comfort to him as the hours ticked by.

Finally Mulder picked up the phone and begin to dial her number before thinking better of it and hanging up. If she was in a precarious situation, her phone ringing might put her in danger. She would call when she was able…

Another hour passed before the telephone rang. Mulder picked it up before the first ring had died in the air. "Scully?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm sorry I'm so late in calling."

The man breathed an audible sigh of relief. "I was getting nervous. What kept you?"

"My cell phone broke, I had to wait to get back to the hotel to call. I'm sorry Mulder but it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to make it back for our date on Saturday."

Mulder frowned. "Why, what's up?"

"Jackson's dead," she explained, kicking off her shoes and lying back in bed. "He jumped off the roof of one of the engineering buildings, ten stories onto a rock. I'm going to do the autopsy tomorrow, and the local branch of the Bureau wants to interview me on Friday. Who knows how long that's going to take…"

"You're not job hunting on me, are you Scully?" Mulder teased, relieved that she was all right.

"I wish it were that simple. I was the one on the roof with him when he jumped, they want a detailed account of what happened and why I wasn't able to talk him down. They think I may have encouraged him because of what he did to you."

"What? Scully that's ridiculous."

"Try telling that to them," she sighed. "Anyway my phone broke during the chase, but you can reach me at the hotel or by e-mail until I get back."

"All right. Are you sure you're all right, Scully? You sound tired."

"I'm exhausted, but I'll be fine," Scully promised, moving an arm behind her head.

"Do you want me to stay on the line with you a bit?" Mulder offered, sensing she was about as unready to hang up as he was in spite of their mutual exhaustion.

"…Yeah sure. I'm not interrupting anything?"

"I'm bored out of my wits with this whole medical leave thing. It'll be a welcome change," the man promised, moving in to bed and kicking his shoes onto the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'll be back on Saturday or Sunday evening."

"I'll still owe you a date," he remarked, yawning away from the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Don't forget a new outfit. You bled all over one of my favorite blouses."

Mulder's chuckle caused Scully to smile. "Did you ever wind up billing my insurance, Doc?"

"Nah, turns out you can't bill for Good Samaritan deeds," she teased. "The world's greatest half-a-cupcake was payment enough though. The sex was pretty great too," she added, knowing this would elicite a considerable amount of pride in the man.

"You think?"

"Best I've had in five years."

There was a pause from the other end of the phone. "You hadn't had sex in five years, had you?"

"Nope," she smiled, laughing when he groaned.

"That was cold, Scully."

"It was great, Mulder," she promised, yawning deeply. "But it'll be even better when we're sober."

Mulder agreed. "We'll have a proper date as soon as you're back and give that a try."

"I look forward to it," she said, closing her eyes as jetlag and the exhaustion of the past few hours began to take her.

"Hey Scully?" Mulder asked, but the woman only hummed some from the other side of the phone line. The man thought better about the three small, yet very large words he had been about to say. Better to save that for another day, he decided. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mulder," Scully answered by force of habit as she fell asleep with the phone by her ear. Mulder fell asleep to the soft sound of her breath, wishing her could hear it without the haze of the telephone separating them.


	5. Chapter 5

Mulder was in the basement office that was little more than a broom closet housing the X-files when his cell phone rang. Mulder held the phone to his ear with his shoulder to continue rooting through the files. "Mulder."

"Mulder, where are you?"

It was Scully, with an alarming amount of concern in her voice. "I'm in the office. Why, what's wrong?"

There was a long moment of silence before Scully spoke again, sounding stressed. "I can't believe what I'm seeing here."

"Aren't you doing the autopsy today?" Mulder asked, sitting and leaning back in a chair.

"I am…" She said, glancing over at the body on the table. "I can't explain this, Mulder. His bones… they're magnetic."

Mulder sat forward in the chair, listening intently. "I don't understand!" Scully exclaimed, exasperated. "Magnetism doesn't just… happen. And it usually requires some kind of current, or intent to magnetize. Besides, bones are made primarily of calcium, and calcium isn't magnetic."

"Are all of his bones magnetized?"

"I don't know; I've only gone into his chest cavity. I'm sending a sample to the lab for a chemical analysis, this just doesn't make sense."

"Check all of his bones with an EMF detector. Make sure you fax me the results."

Scully's brow furrowed on the other end of the line. "What are you up to, Mulder?"

"If he's magnetized strongly enough, we could have an explanation for the slider phenomenon."

"…You think he's able to manipulate entire power grids because his sternum is magnetized?"

"He's dead now, Scully. If he's still emitting an electromagnetic field after he's dead, imagine what he could have done with iron flowing in his blood. Humor me, would you? And be quick about it, I have a feeling the longer he's dead the weaker the field will get.

Scully sighed some into the phone. "Fine. Should I fax it to the office or your apartment?"

"Home is fine, I'm not going to be here long."

"Why are you there in the first place?"

"Just going through some of the old files. I was getting a little paranoid listening to The Best of Art Bell on Coast to Coast all day," he teased, and he could almost hear her eyes rolling over the phone.

"Go home and get some rest, Mulder. I'll send over my findings by dinner."

* * *

The data Scully sent thrilled Mulder so much the pizza he had picked up for dinner sat untouched on the coffee table for hours. Each and every single bone in the man's body had given off an electromagnetic field reading strong enough to be picked up by a detector. The readings were greater in the larger bones of the body such as the femur and the pelvis, which Mulder wasn't surprised to find; the larger the magnet the stronger it's pull, after all. Looking over the pages with fascination, Mulder finally reached for the phone, not tearing his eyes away from the page for a moment as he dialed the number of the hotel she was staying in.

"Dana Scully."

"Did you take a look at these results? They're amazing."

"Well I'm glad you like them. I'm going to have a hell of a time explaining why I exposed nearly every bone in his body when the cause of death was so obvious."

Mulder frowned. "You're really worried about this interview tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, Mulder! We're already a laughing stock. It's not like they haven't tried looking for reasons to shut us down before. The only reason I was sent down to the X-Files was to try and debunk your work, not to fax you more anomalies…"

"Fax me proof you mean. Scully this is incredible. PhD candidates will be writing their dissertations on these numbers for decades."

"No they won't, Mulder."

"Sure they will, bones don't just-"

"The body was ordered cremated right after I finished the autopsy. There won't even be a skeleton for researchers to work with. Besides Mulder, bones aren't magnetic. It could have been a hundred things that happened post-mortem causing the readings. And besides, it was such a faint pull I only noticed it because the scalpel was sticking to the bone. There's only one example of this so-called phenomenon on record, and it can't even be duplicated now that the body is gone."

"Why did you let them destroy the body?" The man exclaimed, greatly disheartened. It wasn't often they had a chance to scientifically validate any of their work.

"When do I ever get to choose what happens to a body, Mulder?" She demanded, bitter at the accusation in his voice."

Mulder frowned with a furrowed brow. "Did they cremate the body in San Diego?"

"Yes, at the morgue about an hour after I finished. Why?"

"Jackson's closest family is in Ashland, Oregon. Why would they cremate the body in southern California?"

Scully's brow was the one to furrow this time. "…I don't know. Maybe he has no ties with his family."

"I doubt that. Until he moved to San Diego he remained in the Pacific Northwest. He must have had at least some contact with his family while he was up there."

"Without any proof we're just taking shots in the dark, Mulder."

"Someone wanted the evidence destroyed, Scully."

"I've been up for twelve hours and had lunch from a vending machine so I could get that data to you; I'm not in the mood for your conspiracy theories right now. Goodnight, Mulder."

"Wait-"

"What?" Scully snapped, clearly exhausted and quite irritable.

"Good luck tomorrow. Not that you'll need it."

Immediately Scully felt awful for being so gruff with him. "Thanks. How's the weather out there?"

"Not bad, but there's a storm due in on Tuesday."

"I should be able to get a flight in before that," she remarked. "Assuming this inquiry doesn't take a week."

"It will be fine, you'll see. You didn't do anything wrong."

* * *

Scully didn't call again while she was in San Diego, but on Saturday evening Mulder received an e-mail with her flight itinerary. At eight in the morning following day he was waiting at the gate, eagerly searching the disembarking passengers for a petite redhead.

Finally Scully appeared, and in spite of her apparent exhaustion she smiled fondly when she spotted her partner. Mulder smiled back. "Hey sexy. Need a lift?"

"It's good to see you too, Mulder," she teased, allowing herself to hug him in spite of the publicity of the airport. "Can we go? I need a hot shower and a warm bed."

"Why'd you take the redeye? I could have picked you up any time today."

"I had to get out of there. I think you're right about the cover up, Mulder."

"What happened?"

"It wasn't a normal inquiry. I was interrogated for thirty six hours. Does anyone know about the documents I sent you?"

"I haven't told anyone about them, if that's what you mean. Scully they didn't hurt you did they?"

"No," she promised as she began to walk with her partner towards the parking lot. "But it wasn't an experience I want to repeat any time soon. I don't appreciate being treated like a threat to national security. Make sure you put that data somewhere safe. They kept asking me about a fax I sent to you; I told them it was just a document you needed to sign and give to Skinner."

"What else could it possibly have been?" Mulder asked innocently, and Scully smiled up to him; if there was one person in the world she could count on to watch her back through thick and thin, it was Fox Mulder.

Parking outside Scully's house, Mulder turned off the engine but left the keys in the ignition. "Want me to walk you to the door?"

Scully gave him an amused look. "It's not the morning after prom," she remarked, earning a smile from her partner.

"It's just that you've had a rough couple of days-"

"If you're trying to invite yourself inside, all you have to do is ask," she remarked, stepping out of the car and leaning against the door.

"Can I come inside?"

"Yeah sure," she told him, and Mulder slipped out of the car to walk to the front door with her. Scully dropped her keys in a small basket by the door as she moved into the house, closing the door behind them once Mulder was inside. "Make yourself at home."

"We need to hang out at your place more often. It's got a lot more space," he remarked as she moved into her bedroom and from there into the bathroom to shower. Mulder followed her as far as the bedroom, laying back on the bed as he heard the water of the shower turn on and tried his best not to picture the beautiful woman who was by now undoubtedly undressed.

"Why don't you rent a house instead of that apartment? I'm sure they don't pay you any less than they pay me," she asked from the bathroom.

"I don't really need it when it's just me. Besides we're out so much it's kind of a waste."

"I like coming home to so much space," she explained. "It makes life feel more… I don't know. Real. I'm fooling myself I guess."

"What do you mean?" Mulder asked, looking to the door and the voice beyond.

"…Promise not to laugh."

Mulder smiled. "Come on, it can't be that embarrassing."

"Promise," she demanded from the other side of the door as the shower turned off and the hiss of running water stopped.

"Okay okay, I promise."

"…I grew up thinking I'd have your average suburban life," she admitted, slipping out of the bathroom with her towel tied neatly around her to fetch a more comfortable outfit to change into than the suit she had flown into Virginia in. "Not white picket fence and 2.5 kids and all that, but… close. I wanted a husband and a kid, and a dog. That lifestyle doesn't really work with what I do, but I guess I never gave up on it."

Mulder watched her as she slipped back into the bathroom to change, amused at her modesty in spite of the fact he had gotten quite a good look at her when they had gone to bed together nearly a week before. She wasn't gone long before emerging again, towel-dried hair tied back neatly as she moved into bed next to him. "I never would have guessed that about you. I pictured you as kind of a tomboy."

"Oh, I was," Scully promised, looking to him with clear amusion in her eyes. "But only to an extent. I can't explain it. It's just something I always thought I would have."

"It's a pretty normal assumption for our generation. That's the kind of home we all grew up in."

Scully nodded before turning to watch the ceiling. "What about you?" She finally asked, turning towards him again. "Did you grow up knowing you'd be chasing magnet-men?"

Mulder chuckled some. "Well, sort of. After Samantha vanished I knew it would wind up being a huge part of my life."

"Only sort of?"

"Okay now it's your turn not to laugh."

Scully very seriously held up her pinky finger, and Mulder wrapped his own little finger around her with a smile before speaking. "I wanted to be a baseball player. You know, back when they were guys you could actually look up to and not guys who have a new girl on their arm every week."

The woman couldn't help but chuckle, and Mulder glared at her with mock accusation. "You promised!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," she said, giving him a look filled with adoration that made up for her broken promise. "It's just… so normal for you."

With a firm but gentle hand, Mulder pulled her against him. Scully curled obligingly against his side, draping a leg over him and wrapping an arm around his middle. "I'm sorry I laughed," she told him again, and Mulder kissed the top of her head.

"Ah, don't worry about it Mrs. Brady," he teased before Scully sat up just enough to catch his lips before turning to her comfortable place against his side to sleep through the day.

When Scully woke she was alone in bed. Although the blinds were closed it was painfully evident she had managed to sleep until into the afternoon. Mulder had undoubtedly been expecting a little more action and had gone home.

Quietly she made her way towards the kitchen, though stopped short in surprise when Mulder walked out of the dining room. "Morning sunshine," he teased. "I hope you don't mind, I got hungry and made some lunch."

"You didn't have to stay," Scully told him as he wrapped her in his arms and held her close.

"It's been days since I've seen you, I wanted to stay. Besides, you're gorgeous when you sleep."

"Oh am I?"

"Stunning. A work of art, even," he promised with a smile rocking her in his arms.

"Did you ever make it to the store?" She asked coyly, and Mulder caught her meaning immediately. It was going to be a great afternoon.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Still absolutely stunned by the positive response to this story! Holy cow. I wish I could thank everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited Close Call over the past few days, but I'm sure you all don't want to read my gushing for a quarter of a page. So to all of you, a great big thank you! It's been brought to my attention that it may look like I'm posting two chapters in a day... sorry about this! Didn't mean to cause any confusion. I'm writing in PST, and on week days I won't usually get a chapter up until almost midnight because of my schedule. It might show up as a different date or as two in a day depending on where you live and when the site gets its act together and actually uploads a chapter. I'm going to try and keep with the very other day thing as best I can. Weekends you'll probably get one out of me every day with such amazing response. :)


	6. Chapter 6

The delivery boy's eyes widened when the door of the quiet suburban home opened, revealing a petite redheaded woman dressed only in a man's white dress shirt. The woman's eyes shined with amusion as the boy shifted uncomfortably. "Um… That'll be twenty one seventy."

Scully took the bag of Chinese food and handed the boy twenty five dollars, instructing him to keep the change before closing the door. Mulder leaned against the table in only his slacks and laughed. "You tipped him way too much," Mulder remarked.

"No I didn't. It was about twenty percent."

"Twenty percent cash and the legs of a Greek Goddess. You have no idea how valuable that is to a sixteen year old boy."

The woman chuckled. "If I'd gotten dressed he would have left with our food."

"I'm not complaining," Mulder promised. "And I'm sure he's not either."

Sauntering back into the bedroom, Scully hopped into bed and pulled out a carton with chopsticks. Mulder followed her into bed, wrapping his legs around her comfortably and taking up another pair of chopsticks. Scully smiled and held out the carton for him. They ate in comfortably silence until Mulder finally spoke.

"We're never going to get our date, are we?"

"With our luck? Probably not. This is nice though," Scully remarked before taking another bite.

"It is," Mulder agreed. "You know, it feels like we just skipped over that weird dating phase."

Scully studied him a moment. "You know, you're right. I wonder why that is."

"Probably because we've been hot for each other since you first walked into my office," he teased, and Scully rolled her eyes some with a small smile. Her cell phone rang on the nightstand, and Mulder reached over to answer it.

"Agent Scully's phone," he answered nonchalantly, and Scully gave him a warning look. "Oh, yeah sure she's right here." Mulder held out the phone to his partner and mouthed "Skinner". Scully glared at him hard, taking the phone.

"Director Skinner, what can I do for you? I told him to answer it sir, I was removing his stitches. Yes, Sir. When would you like me in? I'll be there," Scully said, before hanging up the phone and releasing a small breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.

"What does he want?"

"He didn't say. I have to go in at seven tomorrow," Scully said, though her look told Mulder everything he needed to know.

"You think he knows about us."

"…I think he might. That wasn't the first time you answered my phone, but he pried. What are we doing, Mulder?"

Mulder leaned forward and kissed his partner tenderly. "We're giving this a chance. I don't know about you but I think we deserve it."

"This _what_ though?"

"What do you mean "this what"? Us."

"You know what I mean. How far can we go before the Bureau finds out about us and separates us? We can't move in together without raisins suspicion, we can't get married without the same problem."

"Woah woah woah, who's talking about moving in and getting married?"

Scully gave him a firm look. "Isn't that the goal of your average relationship? Well maybe not _your_ average relationship-"

"I thought the goal was to get to know someone else more intimately than you know anyone else."

"Then what are we doing? You already know more about me than anyone."

"Scully, for once in your life would you not try and analyze something? It's a relationship, it's not supposed to be a science. I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me too."

"At what cost, Mulder? Would you risk the X-Files to be with me?" Mulder fell quiet, knowing they both knew the answer to that question. "I'm not prepared to ask you to. I know how much it means to you. It means a lot to me too. But if they reassign me what are the odds your new partner will be half as patient with you as I am?" She pointed out. "My purpose is still to debunk your work. Someone who doesn't care about you and about the work we do as much as I do might wind up getting the X-Files closed."

Mulder was quiet for a long moment. "Scully do you really believe in what we do or do you keep the X-Files going on my account?"

Scully gave him a look that made the answer obvious before she even spoke. "I don't lie for you, if that's what you're implying. Occasionally I leave some of your escapades out of my report, but I don't twist the facts. If I disagree with your conclusions, I say so. If I agree with you, I say so," she said frankly, standing and moving to put their leftover dinner in the refrigerator.

When she returned to the bedroom, Mulder was staring pensively into space. "We can do this, Scully. We just need to be careful about keeping work separate from our relationship."

"I'm pretty sure we've said that before, Mulder. That doesn't change that this won't ever go anywhere."

"Why do we have to get married for it to go somewhere? You're my best friend, Scully. I love that I know what you're thinking without you having to say anything, I love how tolerant you, I even love your skepticism. You keep me grounded. I need you in my life. I can't help how I feel about you, and I know you feel the same way about me. If we're careful, we'll make this work."

"Are you capable of being careful, Mulder? You just answered my phone with _Skinner_ on the line."

"I've done that before we were together too," he pointed out. "And Skinner would probably be pretty understanding, don't you think?"

"Maybe. But I'm not going to go and announce that we're sleeping together," Scully told him, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Do you want to be with me?" Mulder asked, looking to her intently.

"Of course I do, Mulder," his partner answered without hesitation, and Mulder leaned over to kiss her tenderly.

"Then let's give this a try."

After a long moment, Scully nodded her agreement. "Okay. What do I say if Skinner is on to us?"

"Well, lie I suppose. Did he believe you were taking my stitches out?"

"He seemed to."

Mulder nodded. "We'll keep up with things like that, then. It should be easy."

* * *

Scully walked into Skinner's office just before seven in the morning, head held high in an attempt to look more confident than she felt. Assistant Director Skinner leaned back in his chair when Scully entered the room, gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Agent Scully, have a seat," he said, and Scully obeyed. "I understand you've had a difficult week."

"I have, Sir."

"Well I wanted to let you know I took care of everything in San Diego. I apologize for how the treated you, and I'm going to make sure the person responsible is taken care of."

Scully relaxed some and nodded her gratitude. "Thank you, Sir. It was a very bizarre situation."

"I'm sure that it was. I do have to ask though, what was in that fax you sent to Agent Mulder?"

Scully suddenly remembered her excuse for the fax had involved Skinner and the pale woman paled even more. "…It was a document pertaining to the X-Files, Sir. Agent Mulder suspected Jackson was what he called a 'slider'. It comes from the acronym SLI, for 'street lamp interference'. Jackson's bones appeared to be slightly magnetic during the autopsy. Agent Mulder asked me to fax him the EMF data."

"Why would you cover something like that up?"

"Detective Skinner, the majority of the questions I was asked were _not_ to do with my involvement with Jackson's death. They were to do with how we came to suspect Jackson in the first place, and then about my autopsy. It felt very suspicious, and I did not want to put Agent Mulder in jeopardy by revealing the nature of the document."

Skinner nodded pensively. "I'll look into the matter. How is Agent Mulder?"

"He's much better. I'm going to recommend to his primary that he come off pain medication tomorrow. He should be able to return to work next week."

"Good, good. That's all for now, Agent Scully. If I find something that may be relevant to your case I'll send it by."

"Thank you, Sir," Scully said, standing to go to the basement office.

For a week she cleaned and organized the basement, putting old files into storage, organizing documents. When Mulder came by with coffee and a bag of baked goods one morning, he hardly recognized the place. "Jesus. We've been visited by a cleaning goblin."

Scully didn't even look from her stack of files nearly a foot high. "You think he's related to the goblin in my dryer who steals my socks?" Finally she looked up to him with a small smile. "What are you doing here? You're on leave until Monday."

"I figured you could use some breakfast," he explained, wiggling the bag. "Also, my doctor is booked solid until Wednesday and my stitches are really getting itchy."

"Open your shirt, let me have a look," she told him, standing and moving to put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Someone's forward today," Mulder remarked with a smirk as Scully inspected his bullet wound.

"The stitches are ready to come out, but you might be getting a bit of an infection," she remarked, moving to her medical kit to fetch a pair of small scissors. "This is going to feel strange," Scully warned him as she began to snip at his stitches, pulling them free.

"I love how well you completely deflect my flirting even after you've seen me naked."

"What happened to keeping work at work and home at home?"

"I'm not working today," Mulder reminded her as she pulled the last of his stitches free and wiped the developing scar with an alcohol wipe.

"Well, I am. I have some antibiotics at home I want you to take for five days, help yourself to them when you get time."

"I'll pick them up later."

"What are you really doing here, Mulder?"

"Little office sex doesn't sound appealing?" Mulder asked, receiving a stern look from his partner before he handed her a newspaper. "UFO sighting in Ashland, Oregon."

Scully raised a brow. "Isn't that where Jackson is originally from?"

"You got it, Doc," Mulder praised, buttoning his shirt. "Sixteen people saw it. A couple of them are whackos, but one of them sounds an awful lot like you. Twenty two year old premed, apparently skeptical to a fault. She tried to check herself into the hospital for hallucinations. Great article."

Scully scanned the article briefly. "This could be any number of things. Horse shoe-shaped lights the brightness of stadium lights… why was it only seen by sixteen people?"

"The pacific northwest isn't as populated as the east coast, Scully. It's very rural. Everyone who saw it was driving on the I-5 between the hours of eight and nine in the evening. What's the verdict on me flying?"

"Well, it should be fine now that the wound is healed enough to get by without stitches. But Mulder I don't think this is something worth flying into Oregon for."

"Oliver Jackson's body is magnetic, was cremated for no apparent reason, and days later there's a UFO sighting in his home town? You've got to be kidding me, Scully. If this isn't worth flying to Oregon for, what is?"

Scully sighed some; Mulder had a point. "I'll book a flight."


	7. Chapter 7

In spite of her medical training, Dana Scully did not hold a particular fondness for hospitals. She could tolerate them when she was investigating, she even enjoyed the few occasions she had been asked to assist in an emergency situation once the day was over. There were very few things she could think of worse than being a patient or a visitor of a patient at a hospital.

It was uncommon for Scully to keep secret from her partner, but for the past month she had been coping with a frightening possibility she simply did not want to tell him until she was certain of its reality. Seven weeks ago that very day, in a little motel in Ashland, Oregon, the partners-turned-couple forgot to use a condom. It had been a hot, intimate, passionate night… it had simply slipped their minds. Scully didn't even realize it had happened until the next morning, when she woke filled with dread. To her knowledge, Mulder never became aware of that fact. Two and a half weeks later, Scully had missed her period.

Blood had been drawn the previous week, and today the results were in. The results easily could have been given over the phone. Scully was on a friendly enough basis with her OB/GYN that the confidentiality rules could easily have been bent… but the doctor had insisted Scully meet him in person.

"Dana, thanks for waiting," Dr. Parenti smiled as he stepped into his office, offering his hand to Scully who shook it nervously; the smile seemed terribly insincere.

"Of course, Dr. Parenti."

The man sat across from his patient. "Dana I have to admit… I haven't seen anything like this."

That certainly was not the news she had been expecting. "I'm sorry?"

"…I'm sorry Dana, but you're not pregnant. Not only that… you're infertile."

There was no way to give or receive this news. The woman was quiet for a very long moment before taking a deep, shaking breath. "How do you know?"

"You recall we ran some blood work and did a quick ultrasound… they revealed no ova in your ovaries. Your estrogen levels are fine, which is why you're still getting your periods-"

"But I didn't get my period," she reminded him. "I've missed two now."

The man nodded. "You're an incredibly smart woman, Dana. You knew the possible consequences of sex without protection, and your mind simply tricked your body into thinking it was pregnant. Your blood panel and ultrasound were negative."

Scully had heard about this phenomenon. It was the principal birth control worked on; trick the body into thinking it's pregnant so that pregnancy doesn't occur. In the case of the pill, hormones were used to trick the body. In Scully's case, her own mind had done the deed. The woman was filled with emotions and took another long drawn breath. "Thank you for your time, Doctor."

"Dana wait," he urged as Scully stood, handing her a business card and a pamphlet. "A good friend of mine deals with grief counseling, Dr. Berry. She's a wonderful ear. And when you do decide you want children someday, please don't think you have no options. Come back and see me, okay?"

Scully nodded and accepted the papers, though she new she would never use them. Quietly she left hospital and sat in her car. Checking her cell phone, she noticed a missed call from Mulder; the appointment had taken longer than she expected, and she was now thirty minutes late to work. In the privacy of her car in the hospital parking lot, Dana Scully cried.

A deep, secret place inside of her had been excited at the idea of pregnancy. She had always imagined she would have children, after all… why not Mulder's children? He would be a remarkable father, she knew. She had imagined telling Mulder once the results came in, and how excited he would be. He was so grandiose he would probably ask her to marry him. She would refuse of course; marriage would only complicate their work relationship, even if it would make their personal one easier when it came to a child. There was no reason they couldn't raise a child and continue their work on the X-Files.

Well, now there was. Infertile. Barren. The words bore into her like a stake in her heart. Scully knew it was unreasonable, that she was being over-emotional, and that she still had "options" as the doctor had put it… but she felt like a failure. Like less of a woman. No longer did she feel sexy and feminine, things which had become an even greater part of her life now that she and Mulder were not ignoring their attraction to one another. Oh God… what would Mulder think of her? He had never expressed a desire for children… but he all but worshiped her feminine side, which until now had shone like a diamond in the rough as she fought her way through the male-dominated career she had chosen.

Scully did not make it into the Bureau until nearly one in the afternoon. Mulder caught sight of her walking in just as he returned from lunch. "Well hey. I figured you were taking a sick day or something," he smiled, stepping into the elevator with her to head down to their office.

"I had a doctor's appointment this morning."

"Still having those headaches?" Mulder asked, concerned. Scully stared ahead of them.

"Off and on."

"Well, what's the verdict?"

"I didn't go to the doctor for the headaches."

Mulder frowned some at her tone. "I didn't realize you weren't feeling well. Look if you're sick you should go home and rest. I'll let Skinner know and bring by some soup or something later."

"…Mulder, I'm infertile." There was that word again, like a knife in her heart. It was all Scully could do to keep from crying again there in the elevator.

Mulder looked to her, eyes wide in alarm.

"Jesus, Scully. I'm so sorry. How did you-" the door of the elevator opened, interrupting Mulder mid-thought. "I'm sorry, elevator's full," he said to the man attempting to step in, hitting the close button before the man could do anything about it. "How did you find out?"

"I thought I was pregnant," she said quietly, and Mulder's eyes widened even more. "That night in Ashland… protection wasn't exactly the first thing on our minds. I guess it never had to be in the first place."

Scully's voice was hardly more than a whisper, and not once did she meet her partner's eyes. Finally the elevator opened into the basement, and the pair stepped out. "Wait here," Mulder told her firmly, and Scully raised a brow some at him before obeying. Mulder vanished for so long Scully started to believe something had happened to him before finally he reappeared. "Come on, I'm taking you home," he said in a tone that left little room for arguing, but Scully tried anyway.

"Mulder the world doesn't stop turning just because-"

"I just talked to Skinner and told him what was going on, he gave us permission. Now come on.

"Mulder! What did you tell him?"

"Just hat you got some bad news today, and that you're really upset over it. Don't worry, I didn't tell him how you found out," he added, sensing her alarm.

"I don't need to dwell on this anymore, Mulder," Scully told him firmly. "I've been dealing with it all morning, I need to work."

"Don't make me carry you out of this building, Scully," Mulder threatened, and Scully finally gave in, stepping back into the elevator. They stood in silence as the lift carried them back up to the main floor and the pair left the building to Mulder's car in the parking lot.

The pair entered Scully's house as quietly as they had spent the drive, neither knowing what to say to the other. Scully seemed… different. Mulder could not recall ever seeing her look so hopeless and disheartened. The petite woman moved into the kitchen and filled a stainless steel kettle with water without a word. Mulder followed her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. When he planted a tender kiss on her cheek, he found it damp and salty.

Scully turned in her partner's arms and wrapped her arms around his neck as if afraid he might vanish at any moment. Mulder kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently as she cried silently into his chest. Scully only released him when the kettle began to whistle on the stovetop. With a shaking breath she turned away from him and removed the kettle, turning off the stove before bustling through the kitchen for two mugs and bags of tea.

"Talk to me, Scully," Mulder asked of her, hurting at the sight of her pain as well as at the news. He had never really thought about children… but now that he did, that he was almost a father both excited and depressed him. He knew in his heart Scully was the woman he would live out the rest of his days with, and the thought that they would be unable to have children someday when they were good and ready and not chasing UFOs across the country hurt his heart.

"What do you want me to say, Mulder?"

"Whatever is on your mind. You're not alone in this. You're never alone; no matter what happens we're going to go through it together, for better or worse."

Scully pressed a mug of tea into his hands before moving back out into the living room onto the sofa, curling her legs under her and leaning against her partner when he sat. She was quiet for long while before she spoke, sipping at her tea before finally finding the courage to admit her fears. She would probably never know what made her trust the man so implicitly, but she was forever grateful for it, and even more grateful that he had never once betrayed her trust.

She told him about her excitement about their baby, and about her disappointment of her own mental weakness. The fact she had tricked herself into a false pregnancy made her feel foolish and stupid in spite of the fact it was a more common phenomenon in women who knew the consequences of unprotected sex than in women who didn't know the difference. She told him about feeling like less of a woman, about how the only thing now that separate her from men seemed to be an extra X Chromosome and the breasts and lack of a penis that came with it. She admitted how deeply the news had shaken her faith, and how she wasn't sure what to believe in anymore; she was a good woman, doing good work. What had she done to deserve this, on top of everything else?

"This isn't personal, Scully," Mulder promised. He had never held the same faith in God she had, but he knew her quiet faith was important to her. "It's not like God has some sort of vendetta against you. Bad things happen to good people all the time. We see it every day."

Scully nodded numbly, and Mulder kissed the top of her head. "As for being less of a woman, you're not any different now than you were before this morning. You are the sexiest woman alive in my book, and you always will be," he promised sincerely. "If we decide we want to have kids some day, we'll have options. Science has come a long way, and there's even adoption."

The woman snorted some. "Options. It's been less than an day and everyone is discussing options," she remarked, and Mulder lifted her chin up under his finger to kiss her gently.

"Because you're the type of person who needs options, Scully. It'll make you feel better knowing there are alternatives, even if it doesn't right now."

Kissing him back, Scully nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm in a horrible mood is all."

"I can't say I blame you. Do you want to go for a walk or something? The fresh air might be good for you."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Scully agreed. "Let me change."

It was a full hour before the pair finally made it out to their walk after collapsing into bed together and remaining in one another's arms for quite a while after they were through. They walked together hand in hand, neither particularly caring who in the neighborhood saw them together or the conclusions that might be drawn from the intimate nature in which they talked and stole the occasional kiss. All Mulder cared about was comforting his partner, and all Scully could thing about was her gratitude for having such a wonderful person in her life, through thick and thin.


	8. Chapter 8

"Look I know the investigation before came up empty handed, but you can't possibly say this is a coincidence, Scully!"

Scully looked up from the file her partner had put in front of her, giving him her trademark look of carefully controlled patience. "Mulder. We flew all the way out to Ashland and got nothing but anecdotal evidence of what could have been anything. Jackson did live in Ashland for years, and it's been months since the sighting."

"An untraceable caller speaks for exactly four minutes in a language no one can identify at _exactly_ the same time every night and you don't think it's related?"

"No Mulder, I don't," Scully told him plainly. "I think it's probably a person who needs even more psychiatric help as you do."

"Ha-ha."

"Besides, it's a late night paranormal radio show. They're not known for having normal listeners."

"Hey I listen to those shows."

"Point proven," Scully remarked, closing the file and handing it back to him.

Mulder took the file back and handed her a piece of paper. Scully took the paper and inspected it. "What is this?"

"A transcript of the caller's four minute rant last night."

"…I thought you said no one could identify this language?" Scully asked, and Mulder leaned over her shoulder, intrigued.

"Wait, you know what language that is?"

"Mulder this looks like Sumerian."

"Sumerian?"

"The language of ancient Mesopotamia. I'm not certain, but this looks like a phonetic spelling of Sumerian."

Mulder pulled up a chair and sat beside her. "Where did you learn Sumerian?"

"I don't know it. In medical school we had to go to a certain number of dissertation presentations. One of the ones I attended was on ancient languages. Sumerian was particularly interesting because of how incredibly advanced and unique it was in comparison to other languages of the time. I might still have the presenter's name somewhere."

"Do you think he could translate it for us?"

"I don't know, but he might know someone who could."

Two days later, Agents Mulder and Scully made their way through the city of Cambridge, Massachusetts to Harvard University, where they were to meet with local expert in ancient languages.

"Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Dr. Hayes," Mulder greeted.

"Of course, of course," the man smiled, bidding them to sit. "What can I help you with, Agents?"

"We received a typed transcript in a language we can't seem to pin down. We were hoping you could shed some light on it for us."

Dr. Hayes nodded and slipped on his glasses and accepting the paper Scully held out for him. After a brief moment of reading, Dr. Hayes shook his head. "Well this is very interesting, Agents, but I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you?"

Scully looked to Mulder, who frowned. "Why is that?"

"It appears to me to be written phonetically… it could be Sumerian or Akkadian, but both of the languages are filled with homophones. For example this word here, 'gu'. It could mean flax, neck, voice, or ox. You can't really tell the difference except in context, which is difficult for Sumerian since nearly every word is a homophone for another word. The only time we really get good meaning from the Sumerian and Akkadian languages is from the written text, since the homophones all have their own symbols."

"A language that is so difficult to understand verbally sounds like it would be impossible to use for communication purposes," Mulder pointed out, and Dr. Hayes nodded.

"It would be to us, but to the Sumerians it was as easy as us being able to know the difference between "where" and "wear", or "there" and "they're". It's all about context, which is so hard to study in a language that's been dead for two thousand years," seeing the agents' disappointment, the man spoke again. "Tell you what. Let me keep this and study it for a few days. I'll call you if I can come up with a possible translation that makes sense."

Scully nodded. "That would be very helpful Dr. Hayes, thank you."

"You're very welcome."

* * *

A week later, the telephone in the basement rang just as Agent Scully walked into the room with a bag of sandwiches. Mulder turned down the volume on the television reporting the latest snow storm to ravage the country and picked up the phone. "Agent Mulder. Oh hello Dr. Hayes, thank you for getting back to us. Did you have any luck…" Instantly Mulder moved to his computer and logged in, pulling up his e-mail. "Uh huh. Right. And how sure are you about the accuracy of this translation? All right, thank you Dr. Hayes."

Mulder hung up the phone before the faint voice of the professor was finished speaking on the other end, and Scully moved over his shoulder. "What did he find?"

"Some of the words he said he didn't recognize, but in context he says they're probably science terminology. Physics, he thinks."

Scully raised a brow. "Who is discussing physics over the radio in a language that has been dead since the time of Christ?"

Mulder looked over at her. "I don't know. But I bet it makes you want to head up to Ashland now, doesn't it?"

"…Mulder these numbers here. These are the weights of electrons, protons, and neutrons. And this formula, this is a derivative of Hooke's Law… this looks Nuclear Magnetic Resonance theory."

"You lost me, Scully."

"NMR is one of the ways chemists determine the structure of unknown molecules. It's becoming increasingly popular in pharmaceuticals. Look, here it's even talking about shielding and deshielding the nucleus..."

"So can I book a flight?"

"I think you better."

* * *

The Oregon Shakespeare Festival was in full swing, giving the agents no choice but to book the first and apparently only room available within forty miles of the radio station that had been receiving the strange transmissions.

"I had no idea this place was such a tourist trap," Scully remarked as they sat in gridlock traffic on the main road through town, forced to stop every few minutes for pedestrians to cross the road.

"Could be worse, we could be under a few feet of snow right now," Mulder pointed out, and Scully nodded her agreement.

"Fair enough."

"Plus this gives me time to run my theories by you now so we can have some alone time later," Mulder smirked over to her, and Scully sighed.

"All right, let's hear it then."

"What if Jackson was being treated with a pharmaceutical developed by whoever's been calling into the radio station?"

Scully leaned her head back against the headrest. "That gives us more questions than answers. Who was he being treated by, what for, why are they speaking Sumerian, why middle-of-nowhere Oregon?"

"Well let's start with the what for, that might give us some more answers. What would have to happen for his bones to become magnetic?"

Scully considered this. "Well. They would have to take up a metallic component during their formation."

"Like iron?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, iron would work."

"And iron is found in the blood."

"Yes, it's the main oxygen carrier in red blood cells. It's pretty common in the average American diet, too."

"So say this drug causes iron uptake by the bones-"

"Then he probably would have been receiving the drug for most of his life, but he moved around constantly once he graduated high school. The drug is obviously an experimental one, if it exists at all; he would have had to stay in the same area to keep receiving enough treatments to cause his bones to become even slightly magnetic."

"Did you ever get those lab results back?"

"No, I never wound up sending them. I took the sample but things got hectic and it got thrown out."

Mulder hummed some thoughtfully. "So I guess we'll never know what exactly was making him magnetic."

"No, we won't. Or why. Or who was doing it, if anyone was doing it at all."

"Scully, what if he wasn't going somewhere to receive treatment with this drug?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if someone was taking him."

"I suppose by 'someone' you mean little green men who are fluent in Sumerian," Scully remarked, giving him a look filled with doubt. "That's a huge stretch, Mulder, especially considering we have no evidence _at_ all."

"We have someone or something giving a lecture on pharmaceutical research in Sumerian, and a man whose bones emitted electromagnetic fields!"

"It's all circumstantial evidence at best! We can't link any of these phenomenon together in a way that makes any sense. And think about it, Mulder. _If_ aliens are using people as lab rats for some iron-uptake drug, why Ashland? From an experimental point of view it makes no sense. You want to take as many samples as possible from as many places as possible. Why aren't we seeing phenomenon like this in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Las Vegas –"

"The Slider phenomenon is worldwide! Imagine if everyone who is experiencing this phenomenon is involved, wouldn't that be the kind of sample you're talking about?"

"You want me to believe that everyone who's ever walked under a street lamp as the bulb burned out is being drugged by alien pharmacists?"

Mulder finally parked in front of the motel. "Maybe not all of them. But it's a possibility."

"So why aren't these people all knocking out power grids and robbing banks like Jackson did?"

"Most people don't think anything about it, I'll bet. Jackson was a bright guy. He realized what he was capable of and probably learned how to control it."

Scully slipped out of the car when Mulder turned off the engine and closed the door behind her. "I have another theory, Mulder," she told him, and Mulder gave her a quizzical look. "Maybe the readings were something that happened to his body post-mortem, and maybe someone with a Sumerian-English dictionary is playing a prank."

"Dr. Hayes said some of these words just don't exist in the Sumerian language," Mulder pointed out.

"So someone made them up," Scully offered.

"It's almost impossible to sustain a sentence in gibberish, but a four minute rant?"

"Tell you what. We'll listen to the radio show tonight, go into the studio tomorrow night, and see what we can find out before we start jumping to the conclusion that there's paranormal involvement, all right?"

Mulder smiled some, opening the door to the motel for her. "Deal." Together they approached the front desk and Mulder addressed the woman at the counter. "Hi, we had reservations for Mr. and Mrs. George Hale?"

Scully immediately looked up at her partner with a mix between annoyance and amusion etched onto her face. Mulder looked down at her. "Something wrong, babykins?"

"Nothing, honeybee," Scully promised, accepting their key from the woman at the desk and sauntering off down the hall towards their room. Mulder followed like a lovesick pup.

The minute the door was closed and locked Scully gave him one of her trademark looks. "Mr. and Mrs. George Hale?"

"Hey, it's less suspicious than "Special Agents Mulder and Scully" sharing a queen sized bed and one bathroom."

"And here I thought you weren't a fan of marriage, Mr. Hale."

"I'm not. It's a relationship and credit ruining experience."

Scully raised a brow some. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Nah. But I've seen it happen more times than I can count. Besides, except for the tax break I don't really see the point. You can be just as close to someone without marrying them as you can with a ring on your finger. Take us for example. I've felt closer to you than I've felt to anyone since not long after we met. You're just one of those people that's meant to be in my life, I think. I don't think getting married would make that any different. No matter what happens we're going to be inseparable."

Scully nodded some and pecked his lips. "Unstoppable," she agreed with a small smile. "I understand what you mean. Failed marriages and divorce are everywhere you look these days."

"Pathetic isn't it? Nobody's in love anymore. They're all in lust, they get married, and then they regret it and divorce."

"Maybe it's another alien pharmaceutical," Scully teased, causing Mulder to laugh. "Side effects include delusional thoughts and grand, impulsive gestures."

"Then I guess maybe the whole world's not afflicted."

"No?"

"Well if you are you're not displaying any of the symptoms," Mulder remarked. "I, however, am royally screwed."

Scully laughed. "You're right about that one," she answered. "I guess that means there's still hope for me."

"I think so. Maybe you'll be one of those cute little old ladies walking hand in hand with her husband of a hundred years, as in love as the first day you met. They'll write epic poems about you."

"That I'm not so sure about."

"Why not?"

"Because the person I'm in love with is being treated with an alien pharmaceutical causing delusional thoughts and grand impulsive gestures," she remarked very seriously, and Mulder laughed a bit before realizing just what she meant.

"I… you..?"

Scully nodded some. "You don't have to say it or anything. I know it's a scary thing to admit sometimes. You're only the second person I've been brave enough to admit I love-"

Before Scully realized it, Mulder caught her lips and kissed her tenderly. "I love you too, Scully."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** I'm not dead, I promise! I just got really busy really quickly. Midterms have a way of piling themselves all in the same week, it's a ton of fun [/sarcasm]. Unfortunately after taking a week off writing it was hard to jump back in, so I may be slow still for a few more days.

Government Patsy - Greatest. Review. Ever. One of the things on my bucket list is to advise/write the science behind an episode of something geeky and sciencey like the X-Files or House. Your review was such a huge compliment for that reason, and I thank you immensely.

* * *

Mulder slipped into the driver seat of the rental car and passed his partner a cup of coffee and a travel sized bottle of ibuprofen.

"This what you were looking for?"

Scully took the bottle and coffee with forced smile of appreciation. She opened the bottle and took three of the little brown pills, chasing the pain killers with a sip of coffee.

"You should get some sleep, I can stay up," Mulder offered out of concern. In the past few months Scully had been suffering blinding, nauseating headaches he knew pained her greatly even though she rarely complained.

The petite woman shook her head. "Nah, I'm fine," she promised with a slightly easier smile. "When does the caller usually phone in?" She asked, turning up the volume of the radio. They had decided the best course of action would be to wait outside the radio station and search the building as soon as the caller came on the air. Scully was certain they uncover a hoax aimed at media attention and increased ratings and hoped the night would be short.

"Twelve forty one in the morning. We've got a ways to go," he added, glancing at the clock which read only a quarter past eleven. "We can always go back and listen in from the hotel. It won't take us long to get back."

"You said the call only lasts three minutes. It would take us longer than that to get into the car. Honestly Mulder, I'm fine. The ibuprofen's already working."

"When are you going to get to a doctor?"

"When I need one. Honestly Mulder, they're just headaches. Everyone gets them."

Scully knew they were not just headaches, and although Mulder did not press the subject he seemed to suspect the same. She was never prone to headaches until only a few months ago, and now they hit her hard frequently.

In medical school Scully practiced being both on the giving and receiving end of life-changing news. It had been one of the most difficult parts of her training. The stench of cadavers could be stomached, countless diseases and medical terminology memorized with enough dedication and effort… but none of it compared to the inescapable anguish that arose from the death of a loved one or the presentation of a fatal diagnosis. Scully had received top marks in her ethics course during which she had learned what it was like to give and receive bad news. Somehow in practice, it never felt like she was deserving of such a high mark. Giving bad news was manageable if you could separate yourself from the humanity of it… but receiving it was something else entirely.

Scully knew deep inside that if she went to the doctor, she would never live up to the high marks she had been given in receiving bad news. Having already received bad news on the medical front once the past few weeks, she was reluctant to ever visit a hospital again.

"You were tossing and turning a lot last night," she remarked to break the silence that had fallen over them.

"Little late to be mentioning it now," he said after taking a sip of his coffee. "I didn't wake you up did I?"

Scully shook her head. "I was already up."

"Watching me while I sleep, huh? Kinda creepy," Mulder teased, and Scully leaned her head back against the headrest.

"Don't flatter yourself, I was up from jet lag. I'm surprised you weren't too."

"I opted to sleep in after such a pleasantly exhausting evening…" Mulder smirked, causing Scully to smile some into her cup of coffee. "I don't get a good night's sleep very often, when I get the chance I take full advantage."

"You didn't seem to be having too good a night last night either."

"Just a nightmare, no big deal."

Taking another sip of coffee, Scully looked to him curiously. "What about?"

"I've told you about it before, I think. Did you ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone, where the guy with the big thick glasses who loves to read gets stuck in a bank vault?"

"The one where he becomes the only man left in the world?"

Mulder nodded. "And at the very end his glasses break. He's got all the time in the world to read all the books in the world, but no way to see them."

"I think you have told me about that nightmare before," Scully stated. "The one where you're the last person on earth?"

"Yeah. I had it more often when I was a kid, but it still comes back around from time to time."

"Any idea what triggers it?"

"Yeah. It's usually when something big happens. I had it after Samantha was taken, when my parents got divorced, stuff like that."

Scully furrowed her brow thoughtfully, ever searching for an explanation. "Nothing eventful happened yesterday, though."

"I wouldn't say that," Mulder remarked, looking over to her. They had only just established the previous day that the feelings that had been growing between them steadily for years were without a doubt love. Mulder had never been good at admitting feelings of that magnitude.

"Well not like you're talking about. If anything I would have thought last night would keep that particular nightmare at bay."

"I dunno. Ever since Jackson shot me I've had this weird lingering sense of dread," Mulder admitted.

"Near death experiences can do that," Scully reassured him. "It doesn't mean anything's going to happen, it's just your mind's way of coping with what almost did. With what actually did in your case. You were dead for a couple minutes, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Pretty surreal, right?" Mulder smiled before something on the radio caught his attention. Scully listened intently as the latest radio DJ began his next bit.

The man's voice was stern and authoritative, which Scully suspected was to increase his credibility when he started talking about the strange and bizarre. "-That's right Rogue Valley, our little 'weather balloon' sighting a few weeks ago the government has landed right on our doorstep. The agents arrived two days ago and were careless enough to use their government identification to rent a car and a hotel room in Ashland during the Theatre season. So if you see two men in suits looking for little green men, I say give them a hand. Tell them what you saw and what you know. As careless as they are they're going to need all the help they can get."

"Two days ago?"

Mulder turned to look to his partner. "You don't look like a man to me," he remarked after studying her for a moment. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Ha-ha. Who else would be in the area?"

"I don't know. Unless it really was a weather balloon."

"That would mean the military is here," Scully remarked.

"Why would the military show up for a weather balloon? Besides, it was as bright as stadium lights during the night. Sightings that wind up being weather balloons are during the day," Mulder pointed out, and Scully furrowed her brow pensively.

"They could be fakes, Mulder. Why would they rent a car with government identification?"

"How would they get government identification?"

"It could easily be fake. How would a rental car company recognize a fake government ID? They didn't try to get into a government facility with it, they rented a car and a hotel room," she pointed out, and took a sip of her coffee.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock tolled the midnight hour. Forty one more minutes until the caller was likely to come on the radio. Scully had to admit, she was curious. If it was a hoax (which she was sure it was), it was certainly an elaborate one. The language was one that took even experts days to translate, and was on an advanced, difficult science. It would be interesting to learn the motivation of such a prank. There were probably easier ways to improve ratings, after all.

A man dressed in jeans and a dark hooded sweater rounded the corner. Mulder didn't know why the man should catch his attention. He didn't look any different than the handful of people who had passed down the street as the night began. Quietly he tapped Scully's shoulder and directed her attention to the man walking up the street. Scully studied the man intently. There was something oddly familiar about him.

As he passed under the first street lamp on the street, the lamp blinked out. Agents Scully and Mulder were out of the car before the man had made another step. As soon as the man heard the car doors close his attention was drawn to the pair as they appro0ached him with intent. Within moments the man was running with Scully and Mulder not far behind. Mulder cut through a side street while Scully kept behind the man. The runner didn't realize he had lost one of his pursuers, and when he rounded a corner ran straight into Mulder who roughly shoved him into the wall. Scully was close behind and drew her gun to cover her partner. With her free hand she called the police to take the runner into custody.

"Government pigs!" The man spat angrily against the wall, face still hidden by the hood of his sweater. "Get your hands off me!"

Mulder pulled the hood off the man's head and nearly lost him as his grip loosened in shock.

Under his grip, Oliver Jackson spat on Mulder's shoes and continued his struggle and verbal assault. Scully's eyes widened enormously as Mulder renewed his grip.

He looked to his partner in astonishment as the police pulled up the street and cuffed Jackson, allowing Mulder to release his hold. "I thought you said he was dead?"

"He was! I performed the autopsy myself, Mulder."

"But you never saw them dispose of the body?"

"Mulder, he was _dead_. If he wasn't before he went under the knife he was after," she pointed out; there was no way he had survived the removal and weighing of his organs even if Scully had somehow managed to overlook any signs of life.

A police officer approached the pair and Scully and Mulder, who showed their identification before the man would divulge any information.

"His name is Scott Jackson, twenty six years old. He's been in and out of institutions for paranoid schizophrenia since he was eighteen."

Scully raised a brow and Mulder spoke. "Officer, he looks identical to a man we've been searching for who shot a federal agent. The suspect's name is Oliver Jackson, not Scott," Mulder explained, failing to elaborate on Jackson's death.

"Well I'll look into it, but I'm pretty sure this is Scott. We had to pick him up just over a month ago when he ran away from the hospital. We'll keep him overnight and send him back to the hospital tomorrow."

Mulder rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "Great, thank you officer."

Immediately the man turned to his partner. "I don't think it's the same person, Scully."

"Jackson's family record didn't indicate siblings."

"Jackson was also very good at changing his name. Two identical men with the surname Jackson, both displaying street lamp interference? What if Jackson changed his history to keep us away from his family?"

"He didn't know we were after him we chased him down in Portland. Why would he change his history before then?" Scully pointed out, walking with her partner back to their car.

"Maybe we weren't the only ones who were after him."


	10. Chapter 10

Mulder was about to step into the interrogation room to speak with the Oliver Jackson doppelganger when the quiet clicking of Scully's heals approached him.

"Mulder weight. This is really Scott Jackson."

"You found records?" Mulder asked as Scully passed a thin file to her partner.

The petite redhead nodded. "Yes, plenty. Oliver was born January 21, 1970 at the office of a local OB/GYN at 1:47 in the afternoon. Scott was born twelve minutes later. They graduated high school in June of 1988. Oliver was in and out of community colleges before finally vanishing from the records. Scott was admitted to the local hospital and diagnosed with schizophrenia after he was found wandering naked through Lithia Park in the middle of November. He was talking about experiments the government was performing on he and his brother," she explained, summarizing the file so that they could get inside and talk with the man. "Mulder if you don't mind, I want to do an evaluation on him before you come in."

"Scully this guy has a very obvious dislike for people in suits, probably even ones as pretty as you. It's not a good idea to go in there alone."

"If you come in with me he's going to be even more off-put," Scully pointed out. "I'm not convinced the man has schizophrenia."

"I'm not either, but there's no doubting he has violent tendencies," Mulder countered, but Scully shook his head.

"Only verbally. You or I would have thrashed too if we had been pinned to a wall."

Mulder was quiet for a moment before nodding. "All right," he answered finally, letting it go unspoken that if the man made any move for her he would cut their talk short without hesitation.

Slipping inside the room, Scully wished she had brought something a little less formal to wear to put the man at ease. Immediately Scott seemed to tense and become agitated in his seat. "Mister Oliver, my name is Dana Scully. I'm a medical doctor, I was wondering if you would answer a few questions for me."

"You're not a doctor. You're one of them," sneered Scott, glaring at Scully. The woman nodded some reluctantly.

"I am a federal agent, yes. But I'm also a doctor, and right now that's all I am," she promised. "You know they're going to send you back to the hospital after this?"

Scott rubbed the back of his neck. "Of course they are. It's like shooting fish in a barrel…"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean you little whore!"

Scully gestured to the mirror, knowing the verbal assault would put Mulder on edge before she was ready to end the interview. "I'm afraid I don't, Scott," she answered candidly. "All I know is I don't think you're as sick as they say you are. If you'll let me, I'd like to help you get out of the hospital and out on your own."

The man seemed to be taken aback by her candor and was quiet for a long moment. His agitation lessened as he stared at his hands on the table. "They take me from there once, sometimes twice a month," he told her quietly.

"Who does, Scott?"

"Men in suits. Government men, like your partner back there," Scott spat, glaring through the mirror.

"Did they ever offer you identification? Do you have any names you can give me?"

"Of course they didn't. Do you think researchers introduce themselves to mice before they shoot them up?"

"You were being experimented on?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. Me and Oliver both. When we were kids we used to visit the doctor every month and get these shots and run all these tests. I hated going, and so did he. The shots made us sick, they took so much blood we felt dizzy. Oliver even fainted once... As soon as we turned eighteen we moved out and got an apartment together. Then they started coming after us."

"Do you know anything about these tests, or the shots? Did you ever see a label on a bottle, overhear anyone talking?"

Scott Jackson shook his head. "No. I just know they were using twins in the experiments. Something about varying dosages. I was getting the lower dose, I think."

"Why do you think that."

"Oliver's side effects were always worse than mine."

"But you're the one who was hospitalized," Scully remarked, curiously.

"Oliver… Oliver was always the smarter of us. He kept his mouth shut. He told me I should too, but I didn't listen. I started telling people about what was happening to us. I sounded so crazy and paranoid, they locked me up. Paranoid Schizophrenia, they call it. But they just don't want to admit shit like this actually happens… do you really think you can keep me out of the hospital?"

Scully was quiet for a moment. "I can't promise I can keep you out of the hospital. But I promise I'm going to do the best I can. Scott, do you know what happened to your brother?"

The young man nodded. "They said he jumped off a building, down in San Diego. Suicide. I can't say I blame him…"

"Do you know how he came to be up on that building at all?"

"I… No. But he stopped coming to visit me a while ago. He thought if he went on the run he could maybe keep them away from me if I got out. But every time I got out they found me again."

"Your brother stole ten thousand dollars from a bank in Portland during a city wide power outage. My partner and I were investigating the case. Do you mind if I bring him in now, and talk to you as a federal agent instead of a doctor?"

The man was quiet for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah. I guess that would be all right."

After an affirming glance to the two way mirror, Mulder stepped inside the room and sat next to his partner, offering Jackson his hand. Jackson shook it warily. "Special Agent Mulder," he introduced politely, although it was strange shaking hands with a man identical to the one who had shot him.

"So what do you guys want to know? Like I said, I hadn't talked to Oliver in ages. I didn't know he ever got up to Portland."

"We don't think you're involved, Scott," Mulder promised. "I'm more curious as to what you might know about that power outage, and some of the strange things that have been happening here locally."

The younger man opened and closed his mouth as if searching for words before hanging his head some. "I don't know if I should say… I don't know what they'll do to me."

"Scott, if whoever was experimenting on you needed both you and your brother, it should all stop now that Oliver is dead," Scully pointed out.

"Have you been experimented on recently?" Mulder asked, and Jackson hesitated.

"Well… No. This is the longest it's been since they found me, and you guys say you're not even with them," he remarked.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about anymore, Scott," Scully offered gently.

From the other end of the table, Scott Jackson took a small steadying breath. "All right fine. We started getting the shots since we could remember… we always thought we were perfectly normal, you know? Like, every time a kid went into his mom's purse for a pack of gum all her credit cards stopped working, or that TVs always filled with static when you sat too close. Street lamps always went out when you walked under them… But they don't, you know? It always happened for Oliver more than it did me," he explained. "That's what I meant by side effects, Doctor Scully. But you gotta believe me, I'm sure he only took the money to get by. He wasn't that kind of guy, you know? He was on the run, he was just trying to survive- "

"That's all in the past," Mulder promised. He was about to bring up the shooting, but decided against it – if the twins really were being hunted by men in suits and experimented on, Mulder couldn't really blame the kid for shooting him. "Scott, what do you know about the phone calls to the radio station?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"When we approached you, we had been waiting outside a radio station and listening for a particular caller speaking a strange language. You passed by less than an hour before the person was supposed to call," Scully explained.

The young man looked genuinely confused. "I'm not too sure what you mean. I don't really listen to the radio much. I was on my way to the liquor store for a pack of cigarettes and some Jack."

Mulder looked to his partner curiously before looking back to Jackson. "Thank you for your help, Scott."

"Sure thing," Jackson said, looking more than a little surprised as the pair of agents stood and made their way to the door without trying to restrain or handcuff him, or shoot him full of any drugs.

As Scully and Mulder made their way back to their car, it was Scully who broke the silence. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think he's telling the truth."

Mulder nodded. "So do I. Do you think you can keep him out of the hospital."

"I don't know. The story sounds crazy, but I'm sure he's perfectly sane. Paranoid without a doubt, but I can't say I blame him. But there are so many pieces that don't fit together."

"Like what?"

"The strange lights for one. And the men we heard about who rented a car with government identification," Scully explained thoughtfully. "Though they both could be hoaxes."

"There's one more thing we haven't gotten to the bottom of," added Mulder. "Our Sumerian-chemist-slash-radio-DJ."

"Which could still also be a hoax," Scully added, though if it was a hoax it was certainly a more elaborate one than most they had come across.

"I don't know, Scully. I think there's something more going on here," he told her as he parked outside the motel they were sharing. "What do you say we hit up the Shakespeare Festival tonight?"

Scully looked to him with surprised amusion. "It's two in the morning and we just got back from interviewing a human lab rat… and now you're asking me on a date, Agent Mulder?"

"It's two in the morning, we just got back to a motel we're sharing in frankly one of the most beautiful parts of the country I've ever been in, and I, Fox Mulder, am asking you on a date," he said with a smile. "A Midsummer Night's Dream is playing tonight; it'll be over by the time we need to be out at the radio station again. What do you say?"

The woman considered a moment before nodding. "All right," she finally said with a smile, stepping out of the car.

"Dinner and drinks before that?"

"You're pushing your luck, Mulder," Scully remarked, smiling over her shoulder to him as they moved inside to their room. "Dinner and _a_ drink… sure. Sounds like a good night up until we have to sit in a car until a mysterious Sumerian-scientist-slash-radio-DJ shows up."

"You kidding? Sounds like a great night," Mulder grinned, and Scully shook her head fondly before changing and collapsing into bed, asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

"Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully yelped, covering herself instinctively as her partner slipped into the shower as she bathed.

Mulder couldn't help but laugh at her reaction and spoke nonchalantly. "Just taking a shower before dinner. Something wrong?"

After a moment of silence Scully couldn't help but laugh as we well at her own reaction. "We're going to be late," she remarked, though made no physical protest when he snaked his arms around her.

"No we won't. It'll take just as long for me to shower with you as after you," Mulder pointed out, and Scully smirked.

"That short, huh?" She teased, knowing full well Mulder never spent as long in the shower as he did in bed.

"You're a real comedian you know that?" Mulder countered, kissing the delighted grin off her face.

* * *

"We're not that late," Mulder remarked as they sat at the bar of the restaurant.

"We're late enough that they gave up our table," countered the red head, though the mirth in her eyes made it clear she didn't care.

"I sure didn't hear you complaining. You look fantastic by the way," Mulder added, admiring her silhouette in her go-to little black dress.

"Shut up and buy me a drink, Mulder."

Amused, Mulder order them drinks. "I'm kind of surprised you agreed to go out like this," he admitted.

Scully tilted her head some. "Why? I thought we agreed this wasn't going to just be friends with benefits."

"Well, we're here on a case."

"We had sex last time we were here on a case. I thought I got pregnant from it, remember?" The woman pointed out, accepting a glass of cabernet from the bartender and taking a sip.

"Yeah but that was sex. This is a date."

"I get the feeling this kind of thing is going to be rare. There's not much we can actually do until twelve forty one, we might as well kill time trying to have a life."

Mulder nodded his agreement. "Man it's been so long since I've been out on a date I'm not sure what to talk about," he admitted, and Scully couldn't help but laugh.

"I know the feeling. We're already past the awkward learning-if-we-like-each-other phase. I'm pretty sure you could write my biography."

"Why physics?" Mulder asked suddenly.

Scully blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You studied physics in college. You come from a strong religious background, and went on to study medicine. Why physics?"

The petite redhead was quiet for a moment in thought, and it occurred to Mulder that she had never been what seemed to him to be such a basic question. "Physics is the unifying science. In order to completely understand things like chemistry and biology, you have to have at least a basic understanding of physics. I've always had a passion for science and learning, and I figured studying physics would be the way I could get the most out of my college education."

"What did your parents think?"

"They didn't _exactly_ approve. They got used to the idea of me going into such a demanding field of study when I told them I was going to apply for medical school. Their daughter the doctor was a lot more appealing than their daughter the physicist I guess."

Mulder nodded. "I take it they didn't care too much for you going into the FBI then."

Scully chuckled some. "Not particularly, no. But it's where I'm supposed to be, so it's where I'm going to stay. I can't imagine doing anything else."

"Good. I can't imagine doing all this without you anymore."

"God, can you imagine? Everything that goes bump in the night would go down on record as being paranormal," she teased, and Mulder nodded reluctantly but with a smile.

"You're probably right," he admitted before gesturing some behind her. "That guy back there is checking you out."

Amused, Scully glanced back over her shoulder. "The guy with the gallon of pomade in his hair? I think you're more his type," the redhead teased.

"You don't take a compliment very well, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every time anyone tries to pay you a compliment, you deflect it," Mulder observed. "Especially if it's about how incredibly attractive you are."

Scully opened her mouth as if to argue before closing it again and taking a long sip of her wine. "I was one of two women in my admitted class in medical school, and the only woman in my residency program. Medicine is still very much a gentleman's club; I worked very, very hard to prove I wasn't there because I was sleeping with someone. Old habits die hard. And besides, it's not as if I'm anywhere near as attractive as the women in your porn collection," she added, setting down her glass and turning it absently.

"I'd rather sleep with you than any of them," Mulder remarked, and Scully couldn't help but scoff some. "What? It's true."

"You're telling me if one of those girls walked right up to you and handed you the key to her hotel room, you wouldn't take it?"

"Not unless you were coming with me," Mulder said so plainly Scully almost looked like she believed him. "Nothing can touch what we've got going. We are perfect for each other in bed, out of bed, in the shower, at work, as friends. I can't explain it but whatever it is, it's working."

Scully leaned in and kissed him gently, the first time she had dared to do so in such a public setting. Mulder returned the kiss with a pleased smile. "All right. Who are you and what have you done with Dana Scully?" He teased. Scully smacked his arm gently in retort.

After the play the pair returned to their motel room only briefly to change before driving back to the radio station to wait for the twelve forty one caller. Fortunately the performance had not finished until just before midnight so the wait should not have been long.

"Why would someone call in at exactly the same time every morning, for exactly the same amount of time?" Scully wondered aloud, looking out the car window towards the radio station.

"It could be an arranged time to communicate with someone. Or if it's in connection with the UFO sighting, it could be when the listeners are in an appropriate place to hear."

"If the was a UFO showing up _that_ predictably, don't you think the military would be in a frenzy? If something like that were to ever happen it would be a huge threat to national security," the woman pointed out.

"Ah, but the military may be here already, remember?"

"Unless they're fakes," Scully retorted as the clock on the dash read twelve forty.

Neither spoke another word as Mulder turned up the volume. After a brief moment of radio silence before the sound of a middle-pitched male voice began to speak in the strange, syllabic language they had received a transcript of not long ago. Within moments the Agents had entered the building and found their way into the broadcast room. The show's producer sat back in his chair, startled. "Woah who let you guys in here, this is a live-"

Mulder flashed his badge and the man's eyes widened even more as Mulder spoke. "What do you know about the call that's on the air right now?"

"I-I-I-I don't know anything. "

"When did the calls start?" Scully asked, studying the room beyond the glass. The DJ was watching them curiously, but there was no indication that one of the men was staging the call.

"Two or three weeks ago. The guy just called up and started ranting in gibberish. We cut him off the first night but we got a ton of calls about it so when he called again the next night we let him talk. He doesn't say anything before or after no matter what we ask, just his little spiel. So this is legit? You guys really think this is an alien?"

"No one is saying this is an alien," Scully explained patiently. "Is there any way you can trace the call?"

"Not with what we've got, no. I can get a call back number for you though."

"That'd be great," Mulder said as the call ended as abruptly as it started.

"All right let's see, that last call came from an area code I don't recognize. 507-328-0102."

"That's not a local area code?"

"Nah, everything here is 541. Portland is 503, that's the closest I can think of."

Mulder's brow furrowed some and Scully spoke. "Has the number been the same since the calls started?"

"Let me check…" A few clicks of the mouse later, the man sat back in his chair. "Not in the least. Different number every single night looks like."

"Could you print a list for us?" Mulder asked, and the man nodded.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to do that. Privacy laws and all that…"

"If you'd prefer we can shut down the show for a few days while we wait for a warrant," Mulder suggested, and the man relented without any further objections.

* * *

The pair returned to their room just in time for Scully to pick up the ringing phone. "Hello?"

"I'm looking for Special Agents Scully and Mulder, are either of them available?" Came a male voice on the other end of the line. Scully sat on the edge of the bed as Mulder pulled out a change of clothes.

"This is Agent Scully, may I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Officer Dunn, of the Medford Police force. We thought you might want to know Scott Jackson committed suicide tonight at the Rogue Valley Hospital."

Scully's eyes widened considerably, alerting Mulder to trouble. "You're sure it was suicide?"

"No if ands or buts, Agent Scully. Hanged himself in his room with a bed sheet."

"Was there a note?"

"No. But apparently his roommate said he was real nervous most of the afternoon, like someone was watching him."

The woman pursed her lips. "Officer Dunn, if it's all right with you I'd like to perform the autopsy myself."

"That's fine with me as long as you're certified for that kind of thing."

"I am. If I come in now will he be in the morgue?"

"Yes Ma'am, but he's not going anywhere any time soon, you're welcome to wait until morning-"

"Thank you for your help, Officer Dunn," Scully said, cutting the man off as she hung up the phone and addressed her partner. "Scott Jackson committed suicide."

"Scully it's nearly two in the morning. Get some rest, he'll still be dead in the morning."

"I have a feeling it wasn't suicide, and there's a chance someone will be as eager to get rid of the body as they were with Oliver."

Mulder considered this and nodded. "All right, let's go."

"You stay here and sleep, it's been a long day."

"No longer than yours has been. Besides, if his bones are like his brother's both of us there will add credibility," he explained, taking up the keys to the rental car and moving outside.

"I'm not interested in his bones."

Slipping into the driver's seat and putting the key into the ignition, Mulder looked to her. "What are you interested in then?"

"His brain. A vast majority of schizophrenics show an enlargement in the lateral ventricles. Oliver had none, but if Scott did that could put this whole case to rest."

"I thought we agreed he probably was misdiagnosed?"

"He didn't seem to me like someone who was planning on committing suicide the last time we saw him. If we're right and he's sane, then there is probably skin under his fingernails which might lead us to our caller."

Mulder grinned to her. "I love you," he said simply, causing Scully to roll her eyes fondly.

"I love you too. Now drive or there's a good chance he'll be cremated before we get there."


	12. Chapter 12

"The brain weighs 1,311.23 grams and suffers no physical malformations, indicating either a rare socially derived form of schizophrenia or a misdiagnosis by his physicians," Scully said to the dictaphone recording the autopsy before taking the gelatinous lump of flesh and carefully replacing it into the suicide victim's skull. As thorough as she normally was with her dictations, she was determined to record every single detail about the case in case the body was quickly pulled away as Oliver Jackson's had been.

"Does it ever weird you out?"

Scully looked up over the table to her partner, who was assisting as much as he legally could. "Mulder, I work with _you_ every day. You're going to have to be more specific."

Amusion crossed the man's face as he spoke again. "Performing an autopsy on someone we've talked to."

After inserting a series of neat staples around the incision in the man's skull, Scully looked up again. "It gets easier as time goes on. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," she mused, looking back down at the young man thoughtfully. "I do feel like I let him down."

"Why? We couldn't have stopped him."

"No, but I promised I would try and get him out of the hospital."

"In twenty four hours? Come on Scully, it would have been tough to get him out at all if these people were convinced he was crazy, a day or two is completely unrealistic."

Scully sighed some. "I know," she admitted, though the thought still bothered her. Carefully she held up the young man's hand and scraped under his short fingernails. To her surprise, the tool came out clean under every fingernail. "Mulder come and see this."

Obediently Mulder moved to the other side of the table, and looked at the young man's hand as Scully held it up for him. "What do you see?"

"…Nothing?" Mulder said, not quite sure what his partner was getting at.

"Exactly. I've seen priests with dirtier hands."

"Would they have cleaned him that thoroughly when he was admitted to the hospital?"

"Maybe, but he would have come into contact with people even after his nails were cut and cleaned. Even if he scratched his arm he should have some skin cells under his nails," she explained, placing the scraping tool into a sterile bag to have it examined for any trace of skin that might help determine what happened in the young man's final moments.

Scully examined the young man thoughtfully before she noticed Mulder looking at her in a silent request for her to share her thoughts. "I don't understand why he would kill himself."

"I don't think he did Scully, and I don't think you do either," Mulder told her simply. "What about those men he was claiming to see. You said yourself, he's not crazy," the man pointed out, gesturing to the Dictaphone to emphasize his point.

"Someone would have noticed suspicious people hanging around a hospital. There's staff, security, and patients all over the place. Besides, mental health wards are difficult to get in to, they would have had to sign in-"

"Unless they have an insider," Mulder said, mind racing.

"Mulder-"

"Here me out, Scully. What if this is some sort of research project someone is conducting. They would need access to patients, which they had," he said, pointing to the young man on the table. "They would need physicians to monitor the patients, which they had until Oliver and Scott stopped playing along. Scott said the hospital made him a fish in a barrel, and that they were still testing him when he was here. It makes more sense that someone here is also working for whoever is funding this research than that someone on the outside is coming in."

"Except that doesn't explain the men in suits."

"Supervisors, probably. People checking up on the project for the investors. "

"It doesn't explain the Sumerian," she pointed out, and Mulder gave her a look that told her exactly what he was thinking. "Little green men."

"Scully, pyramids were constructed in South America and in Africa at nearly the exact same time. In Peru there's a centuries old phenomenon called the Nazca lines which from the ground just look like roads in the dirt, but from the air they look like chimps, ants, birds. An ancient tribe of nomads in southern Africa and a group of people in Asia both described a god with a long neck and large eyes and long limbs that comes from a star that can't be seen with the naked eye. If there are extraterrestrials in our neck of the woods, the odds that they've only been here since Roswell are slim to none. They've probably been here for longer than we care to admit, Scully. Why wouldn't they communicate in Sumerian? It's a helluva way to encode data, considering something like three people in the United States can translate it, and one of those guys took over a week and still didn't get back a full translation."

"It's a great theory, Mulder, but there's no evidence."

"A phone call from a different part of the country every night is pretty good evidence."

"It's not evidence of anything besides the possibility of accomplices. We've reached a dead end."

Mulder pulled off his gloves and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. Scully frowned gently and squeezed his arm. "Go get some lunch, I'll wrap up here."

"All right. Pick you up in an hour?"

"See you then."

"Love you."

"I love you too, Mulder," she promised, reaching up on her toes to kiss him chastely before sending him out so she could finish with the body.

* * *

The following evening, Scully was back at home writing up her report on their case. Jetlag kept her up well past midnight when the phone rang and was quickly answered.

"Scully."

"What are you up to?" Came Mulder's all too familiar voice from the other end of the line.

"Just writing up a report for Skinner. Why?"

"Is it all right if I come over?"

"Of course. What's-" The phone clicked off before Scully could finish speaking, and her brow furrowed curiously. Something in Mulder's tone had been concerning, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. In about half an hour, there was a knock at the door and Scully moved to let in her partner. Mulder slipped inside and locked the door behind him, Scully watching him with moderate concern as he did.

"Someone was in my apartment while we were gone."

"What? How do you know?" She asked, moving into the house and sitting by him on the sofa.

"That paper you sent me with the EMF readings is gone."

"Are you sure you didn't just misplace it?"

Mulder shook his head. "It was the first page in a file I started on the case. Every other paper is there, but the raw data and a couple of the Polaroids are missing."

Scully frowned deeply and ran a hand over her hair. "Did anyone in the building see anything?"

"No, but there's been a black car with tinted windows parked outside my building since we got back. No one's gotten in or out, but I don't recognize it. One of the reasons I came here was to see if I'm being followed. I don't think I was, though."

The petite woman pursed her lips thoughtfully and moved to one of the windows at the front of the house. Sure enough the well lit street was empty as far as she could see in either direction. "Make sure you get the plate numbers, I'll include them in my report to Skinner. Why would someone want photographs and raw data?"

"Maybe we were getting too close for their comfort."

"Mulder I know you're disappointed that this didn't lead to anything, but there's a quote from Sherlock Holmes I think of when we're on frustrating cases like this. 'It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly, one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts'. The facts are two dead boys were, or at least thought they were involved in a pharmaceutical experiment from birth. The experiment morphed their bones, and made them paranoid. One of them shot you and committed suicide to avoid me. The other also committed suicide. That's it, Mulder. That is everything we know. It's unfortunate, unethical even, but we have no leads as to who is conducting the experiments, and without any more evidence we may not ever know."

Mulder held his head in his hands before sighing and nodding. "You're right. Knowing something deeper is going on isn't enough."

Scully nodded. "Too many loose threads, and nothing to tie them together. I'm going to recommend we close the case for now, but if something else comes up we can always reopen it."

Her partner's quiet prompted Scully to kiss his forehead as she stood. "Go lay down. I'll be in when I finish the report."

* * *

Scully had been in Skinner's office for more than an hour longer than it usually took for her to deliver her report when Mulder received a phone call to meet with Skinner as well. When he attempted to enter the office, the door was locked and hushed argumentative voices were all that could be heard from the other side. It was immediately obvious something was very, very wrong. After waiting nearly twenty minutes for the door to open, Mulder finally decided to interrupt and knock. The voices inside silenced immediately, and in a few moments Skinner opened the door.

"Agent Mulder. What took you?"

"You sounded busy, I didn't want to interrupt," he remarked, looking to Scully whose eyes were glued to the floor with her arms folded in upset. "Everything okay?"

"Agent Scully, we'll finish this conversation later," Skinner said, and with clenched teeth Scully pushed past Director Skinner and her partner without looking at either of them. Mulder looked after her with a small frown.

"What was that about?"

"Have a seat, Agent Mulder."

Mulder sat as he was told, though he was tense. Normally when he was called in to speak with Skinner had had a very good idea what it was about. Now he was unsure as to what had happened that had gotten Scully so visibly upset.

"Agent Mulder, I'm going to ask you a question and my best advice to you would be to answer as honestly as possible, no matter what your first instinct may be. What is your relationship with Agent Dana Scully?"

Mulder's eyes widened some and he pursed his lips. Honesty was a crucial trait in the bureau, but this… this was a tightrope Mulder was not sure he could walk. If Scully had lied, his truth would mean the end of her career. If she had been honest and he lied, his career would be the one coming to an abrupt end. Her upset led him to think she had been truthful... but the ramifications of honesty were almost as nerve-wrecking as the alternative.

"…Agent Scully and I are currently in a relationship, Sir."

Skinner nodded and leaned back in his chair, looking quite frustrated and conflicted himself. "Right. Thank you for your honesty. Why didn't either of you report your relationship?"

Mulder gave the assistant director a flabbergasted look. "I think you know why, Sir. Conversations like this, and the fact we'll be split up. Sir, we're one of the best teams in the bureau even if we're not doing the most traditional work."

"I agree. Did either of you consider what would happen if you were ever caught?"

"We did," Mulder admitted. "We decided it was worth the risk."

Skinner rapt his fingers on the arm of his chair thoughtfully before Mulder spoke again. "Sir, why was Agent Scully so upset?"

The older man collected his thoughts briefly before speaking. "I explained to her what I'm supposed to do when something like this happens. She had quite a few words to say about the matter. Frankly she's lucky she is one of the brightest agents we've had in a long time or her language might have gotten her in serious trouble."

"You didn't fire her, did you?"

"I haven't made any decisions regarding your situation yet."

"Sir, you can't _fire_ us for giving a relationship a chance."

"No I can't, but I can fire you for lying about it for the duration of it."

Mulder stood in anger. "Neither of us has _lied_ about our relationship, Sir. You asked me what my relationship with Scully is and I told you. I'm sure she did the same thing."

"Sit down, Agent Mulder, I've had enough of this from Agent Scully," Skinner reprimanded, but Mulder stayed standing.

"You want to know why people don't report their relationships? This is why. We're damned if we do and damned if we don't. We decided to give being together a chance, and you know what? Until right now it's been great. Our work has been completely unaffected. She's shot down just as many theories after we started having sex as she has before. I'm sure her report is a thorough and honest as ever. Hell, we're not _that _much closer now than we were before we decided to be in a relationship. The only thing we've done that's any different is have sex and call hanging out a date."

"Sex can change things, Mulder. You know it, I know it. There's a reason there are rules against this kind of thing," Skinner explained patiently, but Mulder shook his head and tapped over the still pink scar on his chest.

"I took a bullet for her before we were together, and I'd do it again. I was a _wreck_ when she went missing all that time, and that was well before we were together. That's why we're damned if we don't, Skinner. Our feelings weren't going to change. We were just going to drive ourselves crazy pretending they didn't exist."

"And if she gets pregnant, Mulder? You want her to have to pick between her career and your kid?"

Mulder pursed his lips some. "We're not going to have to worry about that."

"And why not?"

"That's something for Scully to tell you, not me. But you can take my word on it, it's not an issue. We're being good about this, Skinner. Nothing has changed in our work relationship, and it's not going to. If you split us up at work or force us to stop seeing each other, you're going to lose one of the best teams you have. We're either going to be apart and miserable at work, or together and miserable all the time. Either way, we're never going to be as great as we are right now," Mulder explained frankly, not bothering to wait to be dismissed before leaving the office.

Skinner leaned back in his chair and watched Mulder disappear down the hall, brow furrowed thoughtfully; he had a difficult decision in front of him as he considered what option might be the lesser of several evils.


	13. Chapter 13

The basement office had been empty but for a small note taped to Mulder's computer screen.

"Taking a personal day.

-S."

It was clear to Mulder that there was more to his partner's upset than the fact they had been discovered. Even in her most heated moments she rarely behaved as Skinner had described and as he had heard through the door. Usually she was quiet but firm in her debates, and even her arguments. Not today. Something else was going on, and Mulder was determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

"Enough about me Dana, tell me about you. We never get to talk, how are things?" Margaret Scully asked her daughter on the other end of the telephone.

"There's not really much to say," Scully said, though right now the usual white lie was difficult to stomach. Normally she looked forward to phone calls from her mother, but considering her current state of mind she was not as eager for this small bit of normalcy as usual. "We had another case in Oregon, just got back yesterday afternoon."

"How was that? I hear it's stunning out there this time of year."

"It really was. You ought to go some time. We went and saw this play at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It was one of the best productions I've seen."

"Oh yeah? How is Fox? Have you two… you know?" Mrs. Scully ventured, causing her daughter's eyes to widen immensely as she nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question coming from her own mother.

"Mom!"

"I see the way that man looks at you, Dana. Really though, who can blame him?"

There was a persistent beeping through the phone line, and Scully looked to the heavens and said a private "thank you" for this salvation. "I've got a call waiting, Mom, I'll call you later," she promised, not waiting for a response before hanging up on her mother and picking up the other call. "Hello?"

"Are you at home?"

The familiar voice was not quiet the rescue Scully had been hoping for. "Now's not a good time for you to come by, Mulder."

"How much have you had to drink?"

Scully sighed some and ran a hand over her hair. "Not nearly enough. But it's barely noon, I don't want to start too early."

A knock came at the door. Putting the phone to her shoulder, Scully pulled aside the curtain to see who it was. Mulder held up a bottle of scotch as he closed his phone. With a small sigh, Scully pulled the door open and stepped aside to let him in. "You should be at work."

"So should you. Why do I get the feeling you're avoiding me?" Mulder asked moving inside. His partner moved into the kitchen to pull down two highball glasses without answering. "Come on Scully, talk to me. This isn't something you should be going through alone."

Putting the two glasses down on the coffee table, the petite woman sat and allowed Mulder to sit beside her as she collected her thoughts. With a small breath, she finally spoke. "I'm the reason Skinner found out, Mulder. This is all my fault, and I'm so, so sorry. If he fires us-"

"First of all, he's not going to fire us. We didn't do anything he can fire us for. We may have beat around the bush once or twice when asked where we were or what we were doing, but we never directly lied about our relationship."

"But Mulder-"

"Second of all, how is this your fault?"

Scully opened her mouth as if to speak before closing it again and hanging her head. As Mulder opened the bottle and began to pour out two servings, she finally spoke. "I gave Skinner the recoding of the autopsy. I left everything in. I turned on the recorder before we began photographing the body, but I didn't turn it off until the mortician took the body and I left the room."

A look of realization crossed Mulder's face as Scully downed the drink in her glass. "I said I loved you," he said simply, and Scully nodded.

"And I said I loved you back. It came out so naturally I didn't even think to edit it out or to keep it from him…"

"That isn't your fault, Scully. If anything it's mine. We were working and in a public place, it wasn't the best timing."

"But I gave him the tape, Mulder. I handed him a smoking gun," she lamented, and Mulder kissed her firmly.

"Nixon was the criminal in Watergate, not Deep Throat," Mulder pointed out.

Scully chuckled some ironically. "Except Deep Throat wasn't also on the tape."

"I guess you're right," Mulder admitted, pouring her another drink.

The woman swirled the amber liquid in the glass, staring into nothingness. "I didn't anticipate it being like this. Part of me always knew we'd get caught… but I never thought it would be this hard. What are we going to do, Mulder?" She asked, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"I don't know, Scully. I don't think it's for us to decide."

"Why shouldn't it be for us to decide?" Scully snapped at no one in particular. "It's our lives. We're the ones affected by this. We haven't hurt anyone or each other by this! Why is there so much stigma around sex and relationships?"

"I don't think that's the root of the stigma," Mulder explained. "The fear is that we'll become too attached, too personally involved, and that it might cloud our judgment in a stressful situation. That I might put you before the case at hand, or vice versa."

"But that's almost always been the case with us, Mulder. I've trusted you implicitly almost from day one. I would believe you over any of them any day of the week, and in a life or death situation your life would always come first. It's always been that way."

"I know, Scully. I tried to explain that to Skinner. Hopefully he knows it too."

The pair was quiet for a long while before Scully spoke again. "When I imagined all this happening, I imagined it months from now. And it was hurtful… but the choice was easy. My whole life it's been work first, everything else second. In my head we called it off and went back to the way things were except for the occasional night of casual sex to get it out of our systems. Now that it's actually happening... I can't imagine that working at all. I can't see anything working except for what we've been doing."

"They can't change things between us no matter how hard they try. If they fire us, screw them. You have a medical degree to fall back on, and I'll keep searching for answers on my own. If they split us apart, we'll still be able to see each other outside of work. If the station one of us too far apart for that, we'll work on who flies out to see who when."

"What if they give us an ultimatum? Us or our jobs. If we've already done enough to be let go that's one thing, but I don't expect you to choose us over your work. You have too much invested in it to let it all go. There's a very real chance they'll give us that ultimatum," Scully pointed out sipping at her scotch.

Mulder poured himself another glass and topped off hers. "Even if they force us into something like that, what would it change? Just when and how we see each other. I'm not going to care about you any less because they tell me not to. I couldn't if I tried. You're my best friend, my tether to reality," he smiled to her, lifting her chin up to meet his lips. "Even if I have trouble believing sometimes a woman like you could possibly be with a guy like me."

Scully smiled some involuntarily on his mouth, the alcohol slowly but surely beginning to take the edge of the day off. "Of all the bizarre and fantastic things you believe in, how is that possibly not one of them?"

"Come on. A brilliant, gorgeous doctor falling for a guy who profiles serial killers and chases after things that go bump in the night?"

"What kind of person did you think you'd end up with then? I figured brilliant and gorgeous were requirements for you."

Mulder chuckled some. "Well look at you, taking a compliment like a champ," he teased. "I didn't think I'd end up with anyone, honestly. I dated here and there, but only one relationship got close to serious. The rest were just… company. Someone to keep the loneliness away. They all wound up dumping me for someone less spooky."

Moving to rest her head in his lap, Scully closed her eyes comfortably as Mulder stroked her hair. "Their loss," she remarked, causing Mulder to smile. Quietly he hoped he would never have to chose between moments like this and his work.

Mulder's phone rang, and Scully sat up just enough to allow him to dig into his pocket before returning her head to his lap. "Hello?"

"Where are you, Mulder?"

"Scully had a headache, so I drove her home. What's going on?" He asked, and the white lie letting Scully know immediately who was on the phone.

"I've made a decision regarding you two I think we all can live with. As long as whatever you two are doing doesn't interfere with any part of your careers, I'm going to turn a blind eye to it. I want you to realize the position that puts me in with my superiors if they ever find out about this, Mulder."

"I understand, Sir. We'll be discrete."

"See that you are. If anyone informs me they suspect you two are behaving inappropriately, I will be forced to take action."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Remind Agent Scully that 'headache' or not, the labwork on Scott Jackson comes in tomorrow morning and needs to be analyzed before we can finalize the report."

"I'll let her know," Mulder promised before hanging up the phone. Scully sat up and looked at him expectantly.

"Well? What did he say?"

"… He gave us a green light. Nothing's changing."

Scully stared at him as though he had sprouted a second head. "You're joking."

"No. But that knowledge has to stay between us. We'll need to be as discrete as possible, or all of us are done."

"No more recorded "I love you"s, got it," she smiled, kissing him.

"He also wanted me to remind you about the labwork on the Scott Jackson file."

"Yeah, it comes in tomorrow… Skinner really gave us a pardon?"

Mulder laughed. "Yes, he did," he promised, kissing her soundly. Scully kissed him back just the same, her entire body flooded with relief.


	14. Chapter 14

Scully sat at her desk, reading thoroughly through the lab report she had split with Mulder, who was by no means an expert in toxicology but could by now pick out things that didn't seem right.

"Hey Scully, Haloperidol's a pretty strong antipsychotic, right?"

"Yes, but it's commonly prescribed for schizophrenia."

"What's the usual dosage for someone like Scott Jackson?"

"For a chronic case? I wouldn't give any more than 20mg, but I'm sure some physicians would be okay with fifty. Why?" She asked, moving over to his desk and peering over his shoulder.

"It looks like he took between 400 and 500mg before his death," Mulder said, pointing to the place in the file and handing it over to Scully whose eyes widened immensely.

"These numbers can't be right. There's no way he even got out of bed, let alone fashioned a noose and hung himself with numbers like this."

"Is it commonly abused?"

"No, and even then this amount would be high. I've seen studies on the equivalent of this dosage on mice, it offers virtually no advantages and the mice all suffered extremely severe extrapyramidal side effects."

Mulder pushed his chair back and stood, rummaging through one of the file drawers. "In English, Doc."

"It didn't improve their performance in the least, but all of the mice suffered from either akinesia or akathisia - the inability to move or the inability to remain motionless. The essentially either seized or went catatonic. No one gives dosages like this anymore."

"Could it be possible he was attempting suicide?"

Scully's brow furrowed in thought. "As a back up to hanging? Maybe, but 500mg of haloperidol would need a very big needle. Besides, it would take almost twice that for him to fatally overdose."

Finally finding the file he was looking for, Mulder passed it over to his partner inside was a journal article with a simple title – "Medicine and the Gulag".

"If you're suggesting this was a tranquilizing dose, it would have only taken a sixth of this to do the trick, Mulder," she explained, skimming through the article.

"I don't know pharmacology well enough to know recognize Haloperidol on its own, Scully. I recognized it because the Soviets used to used it as a way of torturing prisoners. It's called punitive psychiatry. Normally it was given in random dosages to "cure" people of their religion or of their political beliefs, but if prisoners were too unruly it was used for the physical side effects you were talking about."

"This is really interesting Mulder, but what does it have to do with Scott Jackson?"

"You said yourself, that much Haloperidol and he wouldn't be able to get out of bed. So how did he wind up with a bed sheet around his neck?"

"He's been in and out of mental health facilities for years. Maybe he's developed resistance to high dosages," Scully suggested, although she did not seem to quite believe herself even as she spoke.

"Call up his shrink and see what dosage he was prescribed."

Moving back to her desk, Scully dialed the phone number of the hospital in Oregon where Scott Jackson had been kept as a patient. After speaking with the physician briefly, she hung up again and leaned back in her chair. Mulder looked back at her expectantly. "… He has never been prescribed Haloperidol at all. He was on Risperdal."

"There's something going on here, Scully."

"Maybe there is, Mulder, but we're still not any closer to figuring out who or why. These results give us more questions but no answers. I have something else for you to consider too," she said, picking up a copy of the Journal of American Medicine and bringing it to him. "Page 743. It's an article on the ethics, benefits, and proper conduct of twin studies. Typically one twin is used as a total control group. In pharmacological studies, that means one of the twins gets a placebo. Both of the twins said they experienced symptoms from the injections they were receiving. Their bones both exhibited magnetism."

Mulder frowned as he glanced over the journal thoughtfully. "No more theories, Mulder. This is bad people doing bad science, that's all. It's for the AMA to investigate, not the FBI. I'll fax their ethics committee our findings, but that's the best I can do."

After a long moment of quiet, Mulder nodded in resignation. "All right. It'll free us up for another case anyway."

"Try not to sound too excited," Scully remarked at his lack of enthusiasm, taking back the journal and moving back to her desk.

"I hate leaving a case open ended like this."

"It's not open ended, Mulder. It's just going into better hands. It's not our job anymore. We debunked it. You should be proud – I never in a million years would have believed a street lamp blinking out over someone was something more than just a coincidence."

"There's an X-File for you. 'Dana Scully's belief in the paranormal'," he teased.

"It's not paranormal," Scully countered. "There's a scientific explanation for it that we proved ourselves."

"Controlled by who? And why?"

"Now you're just trying to get under my skin," she remarked, and Mulder grinned cheekily.

"Can you blame me?"

"Yes," Scully said simply, smiling over to him as she moved to the fax machine to begin sending out documents. "Do you mind giving Skinner the results of the toxicology report?"

"I thought you had to write it all up?" Mulder asked, certain assistant director Skinner would not understand the significance of such a massive dosage of a drug such as Haloperidol.

"I will. But could you give it to him?"

Mulder quirked a brow. "You're too nervous to give it to him yourself?"

"No," Scully retorted more quickly and forcefully than she had intended. "It's just… yes. It's _strange_, Mulder. He holds our careers in the palm of his hand now. I don't like it."

"There are worse people to be in control of our careers," Mulder pointed out. "And there probably _are. _He's putting himself in a tight spot too, you have to respect that."

"I do," Scully promised. "I guess that's part of it too. Don't you feel a little guilty about that?"

Mulder nodded. "Sure. A little. And then I remember how many times we've put our lives on the line for our job and I don't feel so bad about him putting his job on the line for our lives."

With a thoughtful hum, Scully caught the last of the pages as it fed through the fax machine. "All right, I'll give it to him myself."

"Great. It's going to be really awkward around him now that we're having sex," Mulder remarked with a teasing look over at Scully, who rolled her eyes some. She wasn't going to be able to look Skinner in the eyes for a week now.

* * *

_The only abnormality in the toxicology report is a nearly 500mg dose of Haloperidol given to the deceased very shortly prior to his death. It is my medical opinion that Scott Jackson would not have been able to hang himself under the influence of such a significant dosage. Given the level of security in the mental facilities of any hospital, it is also very unlikely Scott Jackson was able to inject himself with such a tremendous dosage. The previously inexplicable lack of tissue from under the deceased fingernails can be explained by the probable state of akinesia the decease would have assumed under such a high dosage of Haloperidol._

_In the light of this new evidence, it is the opinion of Agent Mulder and myself that the forces involved with his experimental injections of the previously mentioned unknown substance were directly involved in a staged suicide of the deceased. Agent Mulder and I also suspect the involvement of one or multiple physicians at the Rogue Valley Medical Center of involvement with the case. The repeated injections an unknown substance while the deceased was admitted to the hospital as well as the gross misdiagnosis of the deceased with paranoid schizophrenia should be suitable enough for a malpractice lawsuit and a suspension of licensure to the doctor responsible._

_It is also this Agent's opinion that Agent Mulder should be kept on a case close to home for a short period until the present case has lost its appeal. Due to his reluctance to pass the case on to a more appropriate agency, I suspect Agent Mulder may have developed a personal attachment to the case regarding the strange nature of the Sumerian caller in Oregon. It has been decades since the loss of his sister, but every new shred of evidence renews his sense of loss and has the potential to cloud his judgment. While the work conducted in Ashland was responsible and valid, I find his persistence and some of his more abstract theories to be unfounded due to a lack of hard evidence._

* * *

"I can't believe you brought Samantha into this!" Mulder very nearly growled as he came in the following morning, slamming the door behind him. Scully's eyes widened.

"Mulder, I-"

"I got a call this morning about your report. What the hell, Scully?"

Scully squared her shoulders and spoke steadily. "This is my job, Mulder. I am your partner, but I am also here to validate your work. _Our_ work. What if I didn't mention it and we spent two weeks next month on some crop circle safari instead of somewhere where we're really needed?"

"You should have come to me with your concerns first. I would have put them to rest."

"Oh would you have, Mulder?"

"Yes, I would have," Mulder said firmly, all but throwing down a stack of files he was carrying.

"So your persistence on this case has _nothing_ do to with Samantha? The fact you kept jumping to the conclusions that the caller was some alien pharmacist has nothing to do with your sister _at _all." She said disbelievingly. Mulder pursed his lips and was silent. "I don't believe it, Mulder. Your entire search for answers and the truth is because of Samantha. You are dedicated and passionate, and stubborn as hell. I love all that about you, but the Bureau doesn't. We can't afford to go chasing after phantoms without any evidence they even exist. That is all I said in the report."

"You told them what they wanted to hear. You know there's something deeper going on here to."

"I do, but I don't know that it's some great big conspiracy or part of the grand scheme of an extraterrestrial race," she countered.

"You didn't have to bring Samantha into it," he said, making it very clear that the argument was over.

Scully was quiet for a long while, staring at her computer screen and reading the same document over and over, still understanding none of it. When it the clock outside tolled noon and Mulder stood, Scully finally broke the silence between them. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to you first."

"Damn right you should have," Mulder grumbled, taking up his coat from the rack. "I trust you, Scully. When I have other people telling me you don't have faith in my work, that hurts."

"Who told you I said that? I said our work was completely validated, just that you should be kept close to home for a couple of days."

"So that we don't wind up investigating crop circles and chasing phantoms," he paraphrased, and Scully frowned.

"You're going to find her one day, Mulder. I know it. Not today, and probably not tomorrow or the next day either. And maybe it won't be what you're hoping to find... but you can finally put all of this to rest. I may not always have faith in your work, but I do have faith in you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

Hanging his head some, Mulder pursed his lips some before looking to her. "C'mon. You're buying me lunch," he announced, taking her coat off the rack and tossing it to her.

Scully's eyes smiled more than her mouth as she caught the jacket. "Oh am I?"

"Yup. Pizza and beer at an extremely dirty sports bar, your treat."

"Swell," she said dryly, though she knew this was the least she deserved for hitting on such a tender subject.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** The rating system on FFN sucks. I've been told some of my M stories are too light, but I'm always worried if I write a T story that chapters like this may be too much. I never write anything explicit, but there are potentially blushable moments in this chapter. You've been warned!

* * *

Less than five minutes after turning on the evening news, Scully was urgently digging through her purse for her keys as her phone rang. Making an educated guess as to who was calling and what he wanted, Scully answered the phone.

"I'm on my way over," she promised, turning off the television and heading to the door. The quiet sound of the evening news on the other end of the line confirmed her suspicions – Mulder had seen the report of a girl who had gone missing from her bed. The entire family had been home. The girl's father was a decorated marine, and the family dog was a German Shepherd who had been retired from the police force. No one had gotten in or out of the house – for all intents and purposes, the girl had vanished into thin air.

Mulder took a shaking breath and ran his hand over his hair. He wasn't sure why he had called, other than that he had needed to be in contact with her. The story was all over the news, Scully surely had seen it and would have known to come whether he asked her to or not. In spite of the fact he had nothing to say, he still felt better just hearing her voice on the other end of the line.

"How soon?"

"Soon," she promised, holding her cell phone to her shoulder as she started the car and began to drive. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Scully," he admitted, listening to the quiet sounds of her car. "Did you see the pictures?"

"No. I didn't turn on the news until about five minutes before I called."

"She looks just like Samantha, Scully. _Just_ like her. And she's the same age-"

"I'm going to be there soon," Scully promised. "If they haven't figure out how she vanished by tomorrow we'll see about going out there, okay?"

Mulder nodded even though Scully couldn't see. "Yeah, okay," he said, sitting back down on the sofa, eyes glued sightlessly to the television. He was both there and more than two decades in the past all in one moment. Scully spoke again, bringing Mulder back to the present.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to stay on the line until I get there," Scully repeated.

"All right. Thank you, Scully. They were both quiet, listening to the news retelling the story, hoping for any sort of development in the case. Twenty minutes later, Scully parked outside of his building and turned off the car. "I'm here. Is the door open?"

"I'll open it," he said, unlocking the door as Scully hung up. When finally she stepped inside, Scully frowned and moved to sit next to him on the sofa.

"Any more news?"

"None. They keep replaying the parents plea for her safe return."

Scully frowned and leaned her head on his shoulder some. "Where is this?"

"Rowlett, Texas. It's a suburb outside Dallas."

"Are they going to start searching for her?"

Mulder nodded. "As soon as it's light out, but there's still no evidence she was even kidnapped. The family has one of the best alarm systems money can buy, and it was armed."

"Could someone have known the code?"

"They haven't said."

"Mind if I use your computer?"

"Go ahead. What for?" He asked, watching her as she stood to sit at the computer, pushing aside stacks of newspapers and magazines on the desk to gain access to the mouse.

"I'm going to request the authorities there send us a copy of the investigation report to date. The sooner we know what they know the sooner we can get down there and help."

"The odds of Skinner approving this are slim to none, Scully."

Scully nodded. "I know. We'll go on our own time if we have to. When's the last time either of us has used a sick day?"

Mulder watched her curiously as she finished sending out a request to the Rowlett police department before logging off of the computer. "Why are you doing this, Scully?"

"What do you mean?"

"You want to use sick days to look for a ten year old girl in Texas. Something else is going on."

The petite woman sat beside him again, but was quiet. Mulder watched her for a long moment before giving up on getting an answer and returning his gaze to the television screen. "I feel horrible about going behind your back about Samantha. Trust is one of the things that makes this work between us, here and at work. I hate that I gave you a reason to doubt me even for a moment. I wanted to prove to Skinner that nothing had changed, but I shouldn't have done that at your expense, and I'm sorry."

This sort of admission was a hard thing for Scully. Mulder knew she was as stubborn and proud as he was; for either one of them, admitting they were wrong was a very difficult thing.

"You were right, Scully. I wanted there to be a connection to her so badly… and there just wasn't one."

Scully nodded some. "That doesn't mean I should have told that to Skinner, especially not without discussing it with you first."

"You're right, you shouldn't have," Mulder stated firmly.

"The way I told him… I don't want you to ever think I feel that the search for your sister is misguided or pointless. I do have faith in you, Mulder. If you think going to help find this little girl would bring you any closer to finding Samantha, I want to go."

"Do you think it would bring me any closer to finding her?" Mulder asked, and Scully looked to the television screen thoughtfully.

"I don't know, Mulder," she admitted. "But I do think after falling short on our last case something productive like this would be good for both of us. Even if it doesn't provide us with any evidence about your sister, we can at least help bring home someone else's sister."

Mulder was quiet for another long moment, watching photographs of the eight year old on the screen. How incredibly like Samantha she looked, with long dark hair and a sweet, innocent face… "She'd be thirty three now," he finally said. "But every time I dream of finding her, she's still only nine years old. Sometimes I still close my eyes before I walk into a room, and imagine finding her there when I open them."

Scully watched him as he spoke, her furrowed brow mirroring the small frown on her face. Quietly she cupped his face and kissed him gently. "I love you," she promised.

Pulling the petite redhead into his lap, Mulder caught her lips before resting his forehead on hers as she straddled him. "I love you too. Thank you for being here."

"As soon as I saw the news report I knew I had to come," she admitted.

"What do you know about telepathy?" Mulder asked, causing Scully to look at the ceiling in an exaggerated silent prayer for patience.

"Less than you're about to tell me, I'm betting," she answered, causing Mulder to chuckle. The sound made her smile in turn. "What's the theory tonight?"

"No theory," Mulder promised with a kiss. "Just trying to explain how you always seem to know when I need you."

"Some people are easier to read than others. You catch on to my needs pretty quickly too, you know," she said in a way that made her words something of an innuendo.

Mulder smiled. "You're not so hard to read yourself. You have to admit though, the connection we have has never been normal," he said, kissing her again on the lips before trailing his kisses down to her neck.

"No, you're right," she admitted, lifting her head for him as he hummed his satisfaction at her agreement. "But I don't think it's for reasons you're suggesting."

"Why do you think it is then, Doc?" He asked, smiling in satisfaction as he caught sight of her eyes rolling in pleasure rather than impatience.

"I think it's one of those things no one will ever explain," she finally managed, fending off a small gasp as her lover nipped gently at a tender place on the side of her neck.

"Doctor Scully doesn't have a scientific explanation?" Mulder asked in mock-shock, grinning at her teasingly. Scully kissed the grin clean off his face.

"Are you going to take me to bed or sit here and mock me all night?"

* * *

The following morning, Mulder awoke to an empty bed, but the sound of movement coming from the bathroom let him know he wasn't alone. He hadn't minded the bachelor life, but there was something wonderful about waking up to a woman in the house. Suddenly the bathroom door open, and Scully emerged wearing apparently nothing but the shirt he had discarded the night before.

Scully saw that he was awake, but walked right past the bed into the living room for her purse. "You're an ass," she remarked, although something about her mannerisms told Mulder whatever he had done was forgivable.

"What'd I do now?"

As she returned to the bedroom, Scully pulled down the collar of the shirt to reveal a small bruise over the place he had been kissing so thoroughly the night before. Mulder couldn't help but laugh as she returned to the bathroom and opened up the compact she had retrieved from her bag in an attempt to cover up the spot.

"I don't remember you complaining last night," Mulder retorted, slipping out of bed and into the bathroom to snake his arms around her, rocking her gently even as she struggled against him less than half heartedly. "Have I told you lately how incredibly sexy you are?"

"No," she said in a way that clearly meant he should continue his flattery even as she pretended to ignore him in her quest to cover up the bruise.

"You are _incredibly_ sexy. The sexiest woman in existence. Especially in my shirt," he added, kissing at her shoulder between each sentence. Finally Scully gave up on her neck and turned, wrapping her arms around him.

"It's really comfortable," she admitted, returning his kisses. "I may have to take it home with me."

"Mmm, only if you send me pictures from time to time. You know, so I know it's in good hands."

Scully grinned against his mouth. "I can maybe arrange that," she said just as the fax machine rang, drawing the pair's attention. Scully moved to pick up the fax as Mulder began to dress. "It's the files from Rowlett. They're glad we contacted them, they say they're in a rut. She was discovered missing at eight in the morning yesterday when her mother went to wake her for school, and there's absolutely no trace of her. No fingerprints, footprints, fibers, tire marks..."

Mulder moved to her, taking the pages from as well as the new ones as they printed out while Scully moved back into the bedroom to fetch her clothes. "Scully this last page says they found blood on the corner of the bookshelf."

With a frown, the woman pulled on her own shirt and moved to take the paper. "It doesn't say if it's hers or not."

"Either way, it's not a good sign."

"What do you mean? At least if it's not hers – "

"If it's not hers it means she's been kidnapped, not abducted, and that the kidnapper was clever enough not to leave a single shred of evidence." Mulder didn't know who to trust less, extraterrestrials who would kidnap a nine year old girl or a person who would.

"I'll let Skinner know we're sick and meet you at the airport in an hour?" Scully offered, and Mulder nodded.

"See you there."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**: I would like to apologize from the bottom of my heart for the tardiness of this chapter. I rewrote it several times and was never really happy with it, then finals week rolled around and I had zero free time. BUT my last final was today, which means two weeks of freedom before my super easy last term of college and much more regular chapter postings. I'm still not completely happy with this chapter. It feels especially disjointed and awkward to me... probably because I wrote each of section really far apart. Part of me wants to do more with it, but I completely lack the mental capacity for that at the moment and I feel like I've delayed posting it long enough. The last section contains Season 4 spoilers!

* * *

"All right everyone, good work. Let's call it a night, huh?"

Scully and Mulder exchanged glances when the police captain spoke and the search group began to walk back across the park to the parking lot. The sun had set almost an hour ago, and the park was poorly lit and growing darker by the minute. Mulder watched the volunteer service return before Scully finally spoke. "Do you want to stay out a little longer?"

Mulder only hesitated for a moment. "We're not going to find anything," he said, sounding quite certain as he moved towards the children's play set nearby and sitting in one of the swings.

Following him to the swing, Scully sat on the swing beside him and crossed her feet at the ankle. "Why not?"

"There's nothing to find."

There was another lingering period of silence before Scully spoke again. "You know, I'm not entirely unfamiliar with your work before you were assigned to the X-Files. You worked a case in homicide that was similar to this one."

"The Amy Silver case?" He asked, and Scully nodded.

"Yes. She went missing without a trace but was found dead at the lake she used to run."

"I remember."

"I had thought that's why you suggested searching the park. The little girl played soccer here. Someone could have been eying her for ages before finally attacking."

"That doesn't explain how a nine year old vanished from her house without a trace," Mulder pointed out.

"She could have been practicing before school. The elementary school isn't far from here."

Mulder shook his head. "She was missing when the mother got up at six. The elementary school doesn't start until nine. By what you're suggesting, she would have had to be regularly leaving her house around three or four in the morning to make it to the park and back before her mother gets up at six. I don't know any adults that motivated, let alone nine year olds."

"Neither do I, Mulder. But it's a simpler explanation than any of the alternatives."

Looking up the sky, Mulder spoke again. "When was the last time you went stargazing?"

Scully looked up too, surprised by the incredible amount of stars in the sky. They were less than thirty minutes outside downtown Dallas, but the sky was dark enough to make even attempting to count every light in the sky an impossible task. "Not since I was a little girl. Even when I took astronomy in college I did all my stargazing looking down into a book."

Mulder stood and moved back to the grass, sitting and patting the place next to him. Scully quirked a brow. "What are you up to?"

"Just come here," he insisted, laying back as Scully reluctantly stood and moved to his side to lay down in the grass. Resting her head on his shoulder, she looked up at the sky once more. Mulder leveled his gaze with her some and pointed. "That's Vega."

"The bright blue one?" Scully asked, and Mulder nodded.

"Arguably the most important object in the sky besides the sun and the moon. Astronomers recently decided it has at least one planet, about the size of Jupiter."

"Is that where you think your little green men call home?"

"I have no idea," Mulder admitted, looking over to her. "Carl Sagan proposed it would be a good place for temporary stomping grounds. Alpha Centauri's another possibility, but it's in the southern hemisphere."

There was a comfortable silence before Scully spoke. "When I looked at the sky when I was a girl, I used to think that maybe if I looked hard enough I would be able to see God up there somewhere."

"Did you?"

"Of course not. Astronomers can see further into space than I ever will and haven't found a thing. They haven't found any evidence of extraterrestrials either, Mulder," she said gently.

"You wear a cross around your neck."

Scully looked down and touched at the thin gold chain with its small cross resting neatly on her collarbone before looking back to him questioningly.

"You don't have to see to believe. Neither do I."

"I love you, Mulder," Scully said simply, causing Mulder to smile some.

"I love you too, Scully. Come on, let's go eat. I can hear your stomach growling from over here."

The woman sat up with an embarrassed groan. "Can you really?"

"No, but we haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving," he told her, standing and pulling her to her feet to walk back to the car.

"Hello?"

"Hello I'm looking for Agent Mulder, is he available?" Asked a female voice from the other end of the line.

"Not at the moment," Scully remarked, glancing at the bathroom door and trying not to imagine the man showering inside. "This is his partner, Agent Scully. May I be of some assistance?"

"Agent Scully, my name is detective Adler with Dallas county homicide. I wanted to inform you we found the missing girl."

Scully hung her head. "She's dead?"

"Yes, she is. A dog dug her out of a shallow grave in the woods by the park this morning, much to the shock of his owner. Her feet and hands were bound with rope we should be able to trace without much difficulty, but we'll go ahead and call you if we feel we need further assistance."

"All right. Thank you, Detective Adler. Good luck in your investigation," she wished before hanging up the phone. This was not going to be a good morning.

Mulder stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. "I left my bag in the other room. As tempting as I'm sure it is to make me walk across the hall and get it myself, do you mind – what's wrong?"

Setting down Mulder's phone, Scully took a moment to find her words before speaking. "Mulder, the girl's dead. She was found early this morning."

A look of upset and shock crossed Mulder's face as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I… how? Where did they find her?"

"I don't know what happened. She was found in a shallow grave not far from the park. Her hands and feet were bound. I'm so sorry, Mulder."

Mulder took a deep breath and nodded. "Looks like you were right."

"Occam was right. The simplest explanation was the right one, even if it was the more tragic. Are you going to be okay?" She asked, already regretting ever coming out to investigate this case. Of course the girl hadn't been abducted by whomever or whatever had taken Samantha Mulder two decades prior. She had been abducted by a much more earth and more sinister force, something Scully had known from the beginning. And now here sat Mulder looking for all the world as if he had just been told it was Samantha they had found bound hand and foot in a shallow grave.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine," Mulder promised, though they both knew that wasn't the truth. "I'm going to go get dressed. Meet you in the lobby in an hour?"

Scully nodded reluctantly, unsure of what else to do or say as Mulder left the room.

* * *

Several days after the trip to Texas, Mulder's mood had not improved much. Things had been slow around the Bureau, providing few opportunities for Mulder to distract himself past nursing a sunflower seed addiction and tossing pencils into the ceiling. That particular day, Mulder seemed more quiet than usual. Finally, his partner decided to pry.

"Something's been bothering you today."

"They found the killer in the Rowlett case," Mulder informed his partner, standing up on his chair to retrieve three pencils which dangled oddly above.

"That's great news," Scully said, turning to face him. "When are they going to prosecute?"

"They're not."

Scully's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"He committed suicide by cop," he explained, stepping down from the chair and sitting again.

Frowning deeply, Scully moved into a chair closer to him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Things haven't been going our way lately, have they?"

"There's an understatement. I think we're losing our touch, Scully."

This caused the woman to frown. "I hope you're not suggesting this is happening because of our relationship?"

"I don't know," Mulder admitted, running a hand over his hair and leaning back in his chair.

"Come on, Mulder. We're not going to solve every case every time. In fact I'd say it's more common that we _don't_ solve, them, wouldn't you? And whoever abducted and killed that little girl certain didn't do so because of us," she told him, standing and moving back to her own desk.

"Maybe not," Mulder conceded. "But would you have suggested we even go investigate if we weren't together? Come on, you never for a minute thought the girl was abducted by anyone but some sick pedophile."

"I don't know what I thought," Scully admitted, exasperated. "But I rarely know what to think when working with you."

Suddenly Scully felt dizzy, and must have looked it. She steadied herself on the edge of the desk and sat, rubbing the back of her neck.

"How's your head?" Mulder asked, regarding her with concern.

"Better," Scully lied. "I just took some vitamins on an empty stomach, I'm fine." Her headaches weren't any better or worse than they had been the past few weeks, but there was no sense in giving Mulder something else to worry about.

"You're never that careless. When are you going to see someone about all this, Scully?" Demanded Mulder as he dug through his desk drawer and placing a bottle of aspirin down by her hand.

"When I need to," Scully said firmly as she looked up to him, letting her partner know it was not an issue that was up for debate.

Mulder regarded her for a long moment before finally returning to his desk. "There's a case in Pittsburg that might be worth looking into," he announced, as if Scully's sudden dizzy spell was as mundane as she wanted it to be.

Scully opened her mouth as if to object, but decided against it. They both needed a change of scenery and something productive to focus on. "Great. I'll pack tonight."

* * *

"You've got something I need."

Those words would forever disturb her. "You've got something I need." It was such a simple phrase. Out of context, it could mean anything. It could have been something said to a lover, a colleague, a stubborn child… but it was said by a man who's every cell had been made of cancerous tissue, by a man who by all appearances needed a disease that killed without discrimination in order to survive.

That strange phrase in combination with her gut-wrenching intuition and an unexpected nose bleed had brought her to the hospital. She hadn't told Mulder she made the appointment, partially out of pride from refusing his instance for so long, and partially out of fear and embarrassment. It was a difficult thing to admit weakness to anyone. It should have been easier to admit it to Mulder, who knew her like the back of his own hand, but it was quite the opposite. Scully knew part of what he loved about her was her strength. Dana Scully was not a woman who needed to be taken care of like some china doll. She was smart, fit, and self sufficient.

But there were some things she simply could not face alone. This was one of them. Alone in the exam room, Scully stared at the images before her with more thoughts running through her head than she could keep track of. The small mass located between her sinus and cerebrum might as well have been her death certificate.

With a shaking breath, she put down the transparency and moved to her purse for her phone, dialing the first number she could think of.

"Hello?"

"Mulder, it's me."

"Oh hey, I was just going to stop by your place and see if you wanted to grab lunch."

The smile was so evident in Mulder's voice Scully had a difficult time bringing herself to tell him what she had called to say. "I'm not at home, Mulder."

"Oh. Well where are you? I can meet you somewhere if that's easier."

"I'm at the hospital."

Mulder's voice immediately changed, taking on a more urgent tone. "Are you okay? Which hospital are you at?"

"I'm at General. I... they found a mass."

"A mass?"

"On my MRI," Scully explained, and Mulder's heart sank in his chest.

"I'm going to come by the hospital, where are you?"

"Radiology, on the second floor."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised before hanging up and moving out to his car.


	17. Chapter 17

"A 'nasopharyngeal mass'. What the hell does that even mean?" Mulder thought aloud, flipping through a book that had been handed to him by the best dressed of the men in present company.

"It means's she's got cancer, Mulder," explained a shorter man, taking off his glasses and looking almost as morose as Mulder did.

"Not quite, Frohike," said the better dressed man, patiently. "A mass doesn't always mean cancer."

"What's the difference, Byers? Can it be treated?" Mulder asked, looking up from one of the several textbooks the publishers of the Lone Gunmen had brought to his apartment at the special agent's request. He would have preferred to read over the books in the trio's office, but once they had pried the reason for such an odd request they had insisted on stopping by.

"The difference is how it moves and grows. It isn't considered cancer unless it metastasizes, invades other tissues. It could be cancerous, but usually a mass is just a benign tumor."

"So there's hope?"

Byers frowned and sat by the special agent. "Mulder, Scully would know better than any of us if there's hope. Just because it hasn't spread to other parts of the body doesn't make it any less dangerous."

"And just because it hasn't spread yet doesn't mean it won't," pointed out the long-haired third man seated at Mulder's computer.

"Right," agreed, Byers, causing Mulder to lean back with a frown. "Or that it won't get any larger even if it does stay in the same place. Tumors in the head can be really tricky."

"I still can't believe she's sleeping with _you_," remarked Frohike, earning him a firm glare from Mulder.

"Right. Because the three of you swinging bachelors know so much about women," Mulder retorted.

The long hair man held up his hands and Byers spoke with amusion. "Woah there, no need to get defensive."

"How does someone get a nasopharyngeal mass? I mean besides chain smoking asbestos and DDT?" Mulder asked, effectively changing the subject.

"If anyone knew how to prevent every type of cancer, we wouldn't be in such desperate need for a cure. But, half of all cancers stem from some sort of defect in a gene that codes for something called p53. In people like you and me, p53 keeps our cells from dividing with damaged DNA."

"And in people like Scully?"

"It doesn't work, or just isn't there. Cells with bad genes divide anyway."

"Giving them tumors," Mulder finished, and Byers nodded.

"There are a million different things that could go wrong and cause cancer," Frohike added. "What I want to know is why you called us and not a librarian or a PhD."

"…This cancer isn't a coincidence. Too many things have happened too soon for it to be a coincidence. Scully is – was at as low a risk for getting cancer as it comes," When Byers opened his mouth, Mulder corrected himself. "Tumors, cancer, whatever the hell is killing her isn't happening naturally. She's fit, healthy, no STDs, no real history of cancer in the family, nothing like that."

"You think this is related to her abduction?" Frohike asked, and Mulder nodded.

"Yeah, I do. I don't have any leads yet, but can I count on you guys to give me a hand when I find something? I have a feeling we're going to have to dig pretty deep on this one."

Frohike's chest puffed some, proudly. "If it'll help Agent Scully, you can count on us."

"I'm not sure it'll help anyone," Mulder admitted somewhat sadly. "But it might at least provide some answers."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and all four of the men startled some nervously. Mulder quietly mused that they had all been in the business of secrets far too long when a simple knock at the door put them on edge. Standing, Mulder moved to answer the door and was greeted by the sight of Scully carrying three large paper bags filled to the brim with groceries. Mulder quickly took one of the bags as she shifted the weight of the others, and Frohike and the long-haired Langly moved to relieve Scully of the remaining bags.

Scully blinked some in surprise at the sight of the trio in Mulder's apartment, not having prepared an excuse for why she would be bringing her partner groceries that didn't involve being tired of eating stale cheerios for breakfast at least once a week. "Sorry I didn't call first, I didn't think –"

"It's not your fault, we invited ourselves," Byers explained, moving to close the door behind her. The way the publishers of the Lone Gunman regarded her instantly made her stomach sink for more reasons than one.

"Mulder, may I speak with you for a minute?" Scully asked smoothly as she stepped inside. Her partner placed the bag of groceries down on the table and began to unpack it.

"Sure, what's up?"

"In private?" She added, and after a moment's hesitation Mulder abandoned his unpacking and moved past Scully into his bedroom. As Scully closed the door behind him, her cheeks flushed some as Langly whistled Taps quietly to the others.

"I cannot _believe _you told them!" She hissed as soon as the door was closed.

Mulder gaped. "Scully, I –"

"I can recognize a pity look from a mile away, Mulder. Not even my mother knows!"

"I wanted to know more about what was going on, so I called them. I want to know what it is that we're facing, if there's anything we can do to fight this –"

"So call me, or an oncologist, or a radiologist! Open up a book."

"They brought me books, Scully," Mulder defended. "I didn't want to tell them, but it's quid pro quo with these guys. If I wanted answers I had to tell them what I was up to. They're concerned about you too, Scully, we're all on your side here. We're going to get through this."

"There are no 'sides' in this, Mulder. Jesus, there's not even a 'we' in this. I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind when we decided to give this a try, but you're not the one who is ultimately going to have to face this. I am. And I would appreciate it if you would respect my wishes and let me tell people when I'm ready to."

Mulder set his jaw as Scully stepped out of the room, digging through her bag for her keys. "Great seeing you guys again," she promised, offering them as sincere a smile as she could muster before they rushed to her.

"No need to go, Agent Scully, we were just on our way out," Langly promised, moving to the door partially to block her exit and partially to urge the others out along with him.

Byers squeezed her shoulder as he passed. "Get well soon, huh?"

"I… Thanks," Scully managed, somewhat surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

The two men waited in the doorway for Frohike, who stood in front of Scully and regarded her for a long moment before embracing her tightly. Scully patted his back some in an awkward attempt to keep the gesture informal. When she felt his hand slide down her back, she couldn't help but be somewhat entertained in spite of her fowl temper. "I'm armed, Frohike," she warned pleasantly enough, amusement shining in her eyes in spite of the seriousness otherwise etched on her face as Frohike pulled away awkwardly.

"Right. Well, if you ever get tired of this yuppie, you know who to call," Frohike offered, gesturing to Mulder as if the special agent were the epitome of the word.

"I will certainly keep that in mind, thank you," Scully remarked, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. Apparently more than one of her secrets had been spilled that night.

The moment Mulder locked the door behind the exiting trio, Scully began again. "You told them we're together?"

"It kind of just came out! They started prying and it's been eating at me all day, I slipped up," Mulder explained as Scully moved to finish unpacking the groceries. "You may not want to talk to anyone about this, but I have to."

Scully was quiet for a long moment, leaning on her hands against the table. "I'm dealing with this the best that I know how," she finally said, clearly choosing her words carefully before looking to him, fighting back tears of both stress and sorrow. "I know you think I'm overreacting. But I need to come to terms with this myself before I can stand people looking at me like that."

Mulder moved to her and embraced her tightly, and Scully allowed herself to embrace him the same. "I get it. And I'm sorry. But even though I'm not the one who's sick, this affects me too. I need to be proactive about this. I can't just sit around and wait for the worst to happen."

"I don't expect you to, Mulder," she sighed. "I know you're not that type of person."

There was a long moment of silence as Mulder sat at the table, alone with his thoughts. "I think we should get married," Mulder said suddenly, causing Scully to laugh. When she looked at him and realized he was not sharing in her amusion, her laughter immediately ceased and any trace of mirth was wiped from her face.

"Oh my God, you're serious."

"Of course I'm serious. What's so funny?"

"You mean besides the fact commitment terrifies you? You wouldn't even be considering it if I weren't sick, Mulder," Scully accused. "Just a few days ago you were blaming our rotten luck on our relationship."

Mulder looked as though her were going to protest before hanging his head some and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Even if that weren't the case, my answer would still be no," she said quietly, and Mulder looked to her again with more hurt on his face than she had expected to see. "My father always told me not to fix something that isn't broken. We're doing just fine the way we are and getting married would be more trouble than it's worth. It would ruin our careers, and you would be a widower before we're forty. I couldn't put you through that."

"You're right. Except that I wouldn't be a widower before I'm forty."

"Mulder –"

"You're not going to die, not if I have any say in it," Mulder said firmly, standing again and moving to lean against the counter top.

Knowing when to pick her battles, Scully decided to let the remark go. "I'm telling Skinner tomorrow."

"You're taking time off?" Mulder asked, looking back at her in surprise.

"No," Scully promised; just because she was terminally ill didn't mean she was any less devoted to their work. In fact, her illness made her even more eager to continue working. "I think Skinner should know. And I want to request that we investigate the women in Allentown," she explained, putting away the last of the groceries.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Mulder regarded her curiously. "Do you think their treatments are working?"

Scully thought on this for a moment. "I'm not ready to die. I know my outlook is grim at best, but I'm not going to go down without a fight. And even if there isn't an option waiting in Allentown, I think you may be right. The more I think about it, the less I think this is a coincidence."

Mulder moved away from the counter and wrapped Scully in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head and breathing her in. This wasn't going to be one of the cases that remained unexplained. They were going to get to the bottom of this, and Mulder was certain the bottom held the answers needed to save his partner. He needed it to, no matter how deep it meant he had to dig.


	18. Chapter 18

**Super Long Author's Note of Doom:**

Hamilyn – Thanks for the input! I usually write pretty late at night while doing my homework, so I tend to make silly grammar errors. I plan on going through and fixing these once the story is finished. Also- THANK you for pointing out the amusion thing! In high school I took an advanced English class, and when I wrote "amusement" once my teacher corrected it to "amusion". She was French and I know "amusion" is French for "amused" so maybe that was it. I want to go wave your comment in her face now!

ya-fic – You're not crazy, you're crazy awesome! There WAS a detective Adler in an earlier chapter. She's actually a fully developed character for a fanfiction I'm considering writing for House M.D. I couldn't resist throwing her in. Her name is derived from Irene Adler, aka "the woman" in the Sherlock Holmes stories.

In case you all haven't heard, the British government has released "UFO Files" dating from 2000-2005. Thank you, Freedom of Information Act! Google it, they're worth a read. Like everything though, I advise you to do further research and make up your own minds. Many of the documents are regarding suspected hoaxes.

Then again, many aren't.

This chapter references plots from the end of Season 4 and the beginning of Season 5. Science is way more up my alley than conspiracies are, so I really apologize if this chapter confusing. It confused me a few times just writing it. Chris Carter wrote like ten subplots into the cancer plot and it's all I can do to keep up!

* * *

Scully wrote neatly on a legal pad at the small guest table in her hospital room, refusing to be confined to a bed a moment longer. After collapsing of hypovolemic shock during a meeting with her superiors she had yet to be discharged from the hospital, and wondered from time to time if she would have the opportunity to see the outside world again.

The cancer had metastasized, moving from her sinus and into her blood stream. It was only a matter of time before the deadly cells found a new home and caused fatal damage. In medical school she had once dissected a cancerous cadaver, and had nearly gotten ill at the sight of it. Masses of malformed flesh grew in the elderly man's lungs and liver, eventually causing him to suffocate. Once in her rotations she had seen a woman going made from a massive brain tumor. Just before she died, she had been reduced to little more than a vegetable.

As hard as she tried to force these memories from her head, they often kept her up at night. These haunting images were the driving reason behind her decision to write out her living will and final will and testament while she still had her health.

A gentle knock came at the door, followed by Mulder's voice. "Hey. May I come in?"

"Yeah. Thanks for coming."

"No problem. It sounded important," Mulder remarked, moving to sit across from her at the small table and peering over at her legal pad. "What's this?"

Scully took a small breath before turning the yellow pad of paper to face him. "I'm drafting my living will and last will and testament. I wanted to run some of it by you."

Mulder simply stared at the paper for a long moment. Scully could tell he wasn't so reading it so much as he was trying to wrap his head around its meaning. "You're dying."

"We've known that for a while, Mulder," Scully reminded him, gently.

"Not like this. I figured it would be years, at least," Mulder muttered, finally folding back the pages and flipping through the will before taking an unsteady breath. "I just… can't believe this is really happening."

"I feel okay today," Scully promised, watching him carefully. "This is just a precaution. I'm actually thinking about going on a walk later, if you wanted to join me."

"Yeah, okay. Scully why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?" Mulder asked, looking across the table to her. "I looked up hypovolemic shock. Everything I read says it results from heavy blood loss."

Scully hung her head some. "Hypovolemic shock occurs when there's about a 1/5 decrease in the blood volume. There are countless reasons why it might occur. Burns, severe dehydration, rapid blood loss. You went into hypovolemic shock when you were shot in Portland and I had to wait for the paramedics."

"You were in a meeting, Scully. You don't have any burns, you weren't shot, and you haven't been wandering around the Sahara for forty days and forty nights. How did you lose that much blood?" Mulder asked, knowing more was happening than his partner was willing to let on.

There was a long moment of silence as Scully looked out the window near the table, debating whether or not to tell Mulder. "The cancer has metastasized, Mulder."

This news caused the man to frown. "It moved?"

Scully nodded. "Into my blood. They run new tests every day to see if it's settled anywhere. So far I've been lucky."

"Lucky?" Mulder scoffed some. "Scully I wouldn't say a thing that has happened to you since you started working with me has been 'lucky'."

"I would," replied Scully simply. "I met you through it. I've learned things I would never have known otherwise. The truth comes with a price, like everything else."

"Why are you the one paying the price? This is my quest, not yours."

"That I don't know," Scully admitted, although she did have some ideas. Mulder had been watched, God only knew for how long. If they were seen together, it was possible whoever was involved was trying to eliminate her and break Mulder's morale in one fell swoop. "Now if it's all right with you, I'd like to make you my medical proxy and the executor of my will."

Mulder shook his head. "I think I may have the answer to all this. I have a new lead."

"Mulder –"

"Do you remember our chain smoking friend?"

"Of course I do. But what does he have to do with you serving as my proxy and executor?"

"Scully I found a vial. We thought it was full of deionized water, but we're going to look again."

Scully gave her partner an incredulous look. "On _his_ advice? When has he ever been a friend to us, Mulder? I wouldn't be surprised if he were behind all of this."

"It's the best lead I have right now," Mulder said, clearly having already considered the possibility the cigarette smoking sonuvabitch was intentionally pointing him in the wrong direction. "There's no harm in looking for something we missed in that vial. If there's even the slightest chance it holds a cure…"

Mulder fell silent. Scully regarded him a long moment before finally speaking. "Even _if_ there is a cure waiting to be found, our job is dangerous. It wouldn't hurt to get all this settled now," she reasons, feeling it was her best bet to get Mulder's mind off the improbably and on to something she considered important.

"I guess not," the man admitted, leaning back in the chair. "So what would I have to do?"

"I want you to be the person in charge of making sure my living will and final will and testament are carried out. If you wind up getting arrested or for some other reason can't take care of it, my mother will."

"You're asking me to do this over your mother?" Mulder asked, curiously looking over the pages more seriously.

"I can threaten to haunt you if you don't take care of things and you'll believe me," Scully teased with a tired smile. "Anyway, some of them are things that would be hard for a mother to do. You're stronger than she is. Bill would never be able to do some of them or I would have picked him as an alternative."

"Your mother's a tough one."

Scully nodded her agreement. "She's been through a lot. But I don't know that she could pull the plug if that it was needed."

Mulder's eyes widened some. "And you expect me to? Scully –"

"I expect that you would be able to, yes," she replied firmly. "Mulder, if there isn't some miracle cure waiting for me, there's a chance I will wind up I a state that I don't want to live in until I'm old and grey. This isn't going to be like when I was in a coma before. This won't be something I can come out of. I trust that you will know when it is I won't be able to come back."

After a long moment of thoughtful silence, Mulder finally nodded his agreement. Scully wondered if he was only agreeing out of conviction that there was an imminent cure, and took his hand from across the table. "Thank you, Mulder. You're inheriting almost everything, so executing the will should be easy. I have enough life insurance to cover the expenses and then some."

"I have to go," Mulder said suddenly, offering no explanation as he stood from the table. Scully could only watch as he moved back towards the door.

"Right now? I thought we were going to go on a walk."

Mulder never answered, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

The cigarette smoking man had been right; there had been far more in the vial than Agent Mulder and the publishers of the Lone Gunman had initially suspected. Scully was surprised and initially unnerved that the smoking man had been truthful with Mulder, and still was unsure if the man meant harm or good through his actions. Whatever his intentions were, Scully knew her partners were nothing but good, and with the disease running rampant in her blood any possible cure was worth pursuing.

Days passed and there were no signs of improvement. PET scans and MRIs showed absolutely no sign of remission. Every time Mulder called there were no new developments. When Scully called one day at just after eleven in the evening asking to see him, the small victory he had one just the day before in naming Agent Blevins as the man behind a conspiracy against himself and Scully. That day in the hot seat had not only cleared him of a murder charge (how could it be anything but self defense, shooting a man involved in a conspiracy against you?), but would surely lessen the pressure against the agents in their search for the truth. Assuming Scully lived long enough to see their mission through.

Mulder knocked on the door of Scully's hospital room, and came in when her voice greeted him from the other side of the door.

"Hey. Everything okay?" Mulder asked, slipping into the room and pulling up a chair at her bedside.

"Better than okay, Mulder," Scully said quietly sitting up and smiling to him gently. "I wanted to tell you in person… The cancer has gone into remission. Your cure is working."

The grin on Mulder's face was contagious, and Scully hugged him tightly when he leaned forward to kiss her soundly. "You're serious? You're better?"

"Yes. It's the strangest thing, Mulder. Last night my tests were the same as they've been all week, but this morning there were signs of improvement. The results for my latest test came in right before I called you. I'm clean. It's as if I were never sick at all," she smiled, allowing him to litter her face with kisses as she spoke and finally kissing him back. "My family will be here soon, but I wanted you to be the first to know."

"When can you come home?"

"If everything checks out tomorrow morning, I can go home tomorrow afternoon. Hey, how did the inquiry go? You're not in prison so I'm assuming it went okay?"

"Section Chief Blevins was the mole in the FBI. He was the one behind all of it, Scully, can you believe it?"

"'Was'? What happened to him?" Scully asked with a small frown.

"I'm not sure. He was found dead this morning."

"How did you know it was him? All evidence pointed to Skinner."

"I'm sure that's just what they wanted us to think. The whole goal was to destroy us from the inside. If it was Skinner, he could have had us separated months ago," Mulder pointed out, and Scully nodded thoughtfully. She hadn't considered that Skinner was the one keeping the secret of their relationship under wraps. "I took a shot in the dark accusing Blevins. There was evidence mounting against him after I did, but I think the best confirmation is his death."

The door opened and Mrs. Scully stepped into the room, closely followed by Scully's brother Bill. Both smiled broadly at the sight of Scully up and looking healthier than she had looked in ages. Mulder stood politely as the pair made their way into the room.

"Mrs. Scully, Bill," he greeted with a smile.

"Fox, it's good to see you. Sit down, we didn't mean to interrupt," the woman promised warmly.

Mulder shook his head. "It's all right. I'll wait outside," he said, both wishing to give the family time alone and knowing Scully's brother did not quite share her mother's fondness for him. Moving out of the room, Mulder sat in the first chair by the door. Leaning back and looking up to the ceiling, Mulder said a quiet thank you to anyone or anything that might have been listening.


	19. Chapter 19

"Mulder, come listen to this."

Obediently, Agent Mulder moved over to his partner as she unplugged the headphones from the answering machine and replayed what she had been listening to.

"Special Agent Scully, this is Detective Adler from Rowlett Homicide, we were in contact regarding the Claire Reynolds murder a few months ago. Something… something you and your partner might be interested in has come up regarding the case. Please give me a call back as soon as you get this message –"

Scully looked up at her partner. "This is from just a week ago. She's the one who called telling us the missing girl in Texas was found was found dead."

"What do you think it could be?" Mulder asked, jotting down the contact information of the detective after replaying the message.

"I don't know. They wouldn't be calling us if they could explain it," Scully pointed out.

"We weren't there in an official capacity. Did they know what it is we do with the FBI?" Mulder asked, and Scully's eyes lit up.

"Mulder? You're not the most subtle person I've ever met. They probably knew we're not normal agents minutes after we showed up."

"Touché," Mulder replied with a small laugh. "Do you feel up to going?"

"I had cancer, not a bullet hole in my chest. I can handle a flight," Scully promised, patting over the scar in his chest as she stood to fill out a request to take the case.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Thank you for coming," Detective Adler greeted, shaking each of their hands in turn before pushing a long chestnut wave behind her hair. Mulder's appreciative look at the woman did not go unnoticed by his partner.

"What exactly is it you think we can do for you, Detective?" The redhead asked, trying her best to be patient with her partner.

"There have been some new developments in the case. Claire Reynolds was adopted."

"I don't see why that makes this an FBI matter?"

Detective Adler looked around uncomfortably for a moment before opening the door to one of the interrogation rooms to give them slightly more privacy. "I'm sorry if it seems I'm acting strangely. A lot of this just isn't making sense right now."

"Things not making sense happens to be our specialty, Detective," Mulder promised.

"Right. Claire Reynolds was a twin. She never met her sister as far as we know. The girl was adopted by a family in the Pacific northwest."

The special agents looked to each other. "Anywhere near Ashland, Oregon by any chance?" Mulder asked, and the detective looked surprised.

"Grants Pass, not far from there. How did you –"

"Detective Adler, that still doesn't explain why you would think to call the FBI regarding this case," Scully said.

"Claire's sister was named Annette Threlkeld. Annette Threlkeld was found dead two weeks ago, murdered in the same manner as the sister she never met."

"It could be a copycat killer. The Reynolds disappearance was on the news all the way in D.C," Mulder pointed out

Detective Adler nodded her agreement. "Right. That's what we thought it was at first. And then the homicide detectives there discovered this."

Reaching into her jacket, the detective removed a small stack of polaroids and handed it to Mulder. Scully looked on as her partner flipped through the photographs, which revealed a little girl's room covered with drawings.

"Annette Threlkeld's room is covered with drawings of herself and someone her parents thought was an imaginary friend. The girls in the drawings are identical, and are labeled 'Nettie and Claire'. These drawings date back to the girls' third birthday."

"This photograph is different," Scully said, taking it out of the pile and holding it up to the woman.

"That photograph was taken in Claire's room. When asked, her parents looked through her things and found the drawing in the photograph. It's of Claire and her imaginary friend Nettie." Detective Adler explained, folding her arms uncomfortably. "Have you guys ever seen anything like this before?"

Scully took the photographs and inspected them more carefully. "How sure are you that the girls never had any contact?"

"Pretty damn sure, Agent Scully. Their parents died in a car accident while she was still pregnant, the girls were saved, became wards of the state, and were adopted before either of them was a year old. I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm positive I don't remember anything from when I was that young."

"Most people don't remember much before five years of age, but there are people who report flashes of memories from earlier. Often times the memories are planted by stories their parents tell," Scully explained. "Did the parents know the girls were twins?"

"Yes, they did," the detective conceded.

"Thank you, Detective Adler. We'll contact you if we need anything else," Scully promised, slipping out of the interrogation room and back down the hallway without waiting for her partner. Mulder said his goodbyes to the detective and trotted after her.

"I give up, what is it?" Mulder asked, catching up to her.

Scully continued looking forward as they left the building. "I think it's pretty obvious this is simply a case of coincidence. Besides, there are studies of twins with connections science just can't explain, but I wouldn't classify them as X-Files."

"This isn't quite the same as twins separated at birth both naming their cats Larry, Scully. These girls seemed to know one another existed, and now they're both dead."

"Their parents told them they were twins, and they simply filled in the blanks on their owns. Children have vivid imaginations; little girls especially are prone to fantasies and storytelling," Scully explained.

Mulder slipped behind the driver's seat of the rental car, but did not turn the keys in the ignition. "You honestly think this has no connection at all to the Jackson twins?" He asked, clearly not believing this was the case.

"No, Mulder, I don't. I think what happened is a copycat saw the same girl, and decided to perpetuate the same crime. Everything else can be explained by normal childhood behavior," Scully explained, looking over to him. "We'll get their birth and medical records, prove they knew about one another and that they weren't being experimented on like the Jackson twins were, and the case will be closed."

Normally, the quiet between the pair was comfortable. Scully could be reading, Mulder could be watching baseball and there would still be a sense of connection between them. That evening the tension between them was so thick it could have been cut with only the sharpest of knives.

Scully had read the same paragraph in her book going on three times without retaining a single word of what she had read when finally she gave up and put the book aside to slip into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She showered briefly before stepping out and wrapping a towel around herself and grabbing another to star drying her hair.

She had never thought of herself as particularly attractive, but knew she wasn't exactly unattractive either. Red hair, pale skin, and blue eyes had always made her stand out in a crowd in spite of her petite stature. Her tomboy nature had sacrificed a traditionally attractive frame for one that was strong and fit, albeit well proportioned. After chemotherapy she had lost a little weight and still looked a little more sickly than usual. Her hair was a little thinner, the dark circles under her eyes were a little more difficult to cover up in the mornings, but overall she didn't feel any more or less attractive than she always had until she had noticed Mulder mentally stripping the more traditionally attractive detective.

A knock at the bathroom door snapped Scully out of her thoughts. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Scully promised, grabbing a smaller towel to dry her hair and a comb before slipping out of the bathroom and grabbing a change of clothes for bed.

Mulder leaned against the bathroom doorframe. "Are you sure? You've been acting a little strange all day."

"Have I?" She asked, turning from him to pull on a fresh shirt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"You're a really terrible liar," Mulder remarked, moving to embrace her from behind and frowning when she shrugged him away.

"I don't know, I've told some whoppers that have saved your ass before," she pointed out.

"All right, what's wrong?"

There's a loaded question, Scully thought. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. It's not a big deal."

"All right," Mulder replied, holding up his hands in defeat although the look on his face still questioned her.

Scully sighed some. "I saw you looking at the detective is all. I told you, it's not a big deal," she said, picking up her book again to pretend to read.

Mulder raised a brow. "You're jealous of Detective Adler?" He asked, barely suppressing a smirk.

The look in Scully's eyes very plainly told him to where he could stick his theory. "No, Mulder, I'm not –"

"You _are!_" Mulder grinned. "Aw. Scully that's kind of cute."

"Call me cute again and those little girls won't be the only ones dead in a ditch," she threatened barely more than a murmur, and Mulder laughed.

Scully pursed her lips and combed out her hair in the mirror without saying another word. With a smile Mulder moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, rocking her gently. "Come on," he kissed her cheek, keeping his hold on her even when she tried to shrug him away again. "You know you're beautiful."

"I'm not in the mood for this, Mulder," she said, attempting to comb her hair around his kisses and doing her best not to smile.

"You're stunning. Gorgeous. Sexy. Plus, you're all mine," he added, turning her in his arms. Finally Scully allowed him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're an ass," she smiled, kissing her partner and swaying with him.

"Yeah. But I'm _your_ ass," Mulder pointed out, returning the kiss and picking her up to fall into bed with her in his arms.

"Mulder? I think you might be right. Come look at this."

Scully was seated at a desk in the Rowlett police department, reading over the faxes that had just come in regarding the murdered twin. Mulder moved to her and glanced over her shoulder down at the papers. "The girls' medical records are almost identical. They went to the doctor on the exact same days, at the exact same time when you take into account the time zone difference. They went far more than two healthy little girls should ever have to see a doctor."

"What are the odds this is a coincidence?" He asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

"This is no coincidence, Mulder. I want to do an autopsy on the girl's remains here in Rowlett."

"I'm going to book a flight to Oregon and check out the case files on the girl there," Mulder offered, and Scully nodded her agreement.

"If you can, get the parents to sign off on exhuming the body. I want to do an autopsy on her too. It might be too late to find anything useful, but it's worth a try."

Mulder took Scully's bag and tossed it into the trunk of the rental car, pulling his jacked up over his head as he rushed back into the driver's seat amidst the torrential rain. "Spring in southern Oregon."

"Lovely," Scully remarked, wringing out her sopping wet hair. "Did you get the body?"

"Yes and no."

Scully looked to her partner with a raised brow before he elaborated. "The parents agreed to exhume the body, but when we went to dig it up this morning the grave was empty. There's an investigation in progress, but I doubt anything will come of it."

Leaning her head back against the seat, Scully sighed some. "Another dead end then."

"You didn't find anything in Rowlett?"

"Not a thing. The body was too degraded to get any physical evidence, and the chemical evidence isn't definitive. There are traces of magnetic materials in her bones, but not in statistically significantly quantities. I also found trace evidence of an anesthetic in her blood that didn't show up on the tox screening," Scully explained, looking over to him.

"Do you think either would have shown up more significantly in a fresher corpse?"

"I can't say for sure… but probably," Scully admitted. "I don't think it's an accident they showed up."

The agents were greeted by a uniformed police officer the moment they walked into the Grants Pass police station. "Agent Mulder, there you are. We've been looking for you for almost an hour."

"Detective Collins, this is my partner Agent Scully. She'll be working with me for the remainder of the investigation."

"It's a pleasure, Agent Scully," the detective promised, shaking the redhead's hand politely. "Agent Mulder, you asked to be informed if we had any leads on the missing body."

"You have a lead?" Scully asked, following the detective when he walked off deeper into the station.

"Better than a lead. We have him in custody."

* * *

**Author's Note:** LuizaFM - I thought about exploring her cancer more, but I wanted to get back to the X-File so I can start wrapping this story up and start working on an original I've had in my head for a while now.

Everyone - Thank you for pointing out my silly grammar errors! Please continue to do so, it really helps me out quite a bit. I won't get a chance to do much editing until the story is over, but I will get around to it and your help is extremely appreciated.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Blush-worthy scene at the end of this chapter. You've been warned!

* * *

"Michael Cohen was arrested just before you got in. We found his fingerprints on the casket and shoeprints in the mud near the grave. When we went to investigate, he came right out with it and confessed," Detective Collins informed the pair, handing Mulder the case file.

"Does Mister Cohen have any connection to the Threlkeld family?" Mulder asked as they approached the cell. Scully took the file from his hands and began to scan through it thoughtfully.

"We're still looking, but so far there's nothing. Cohen isn't even from Southern Oregon and doesn't seem to have any ties to the area at all. As far as we can tell this is his first time even visiting the region," the detective explained.

Scully looked to her partner, and when Mulder met her eyes it was clear they were sharing the same thought - the man had come specifically to rob the grave of Annette Threlkeld. The motive however remained to be discovered.

Michael Cohen did not appear to be the sort to rob the grave of a child, or the grave of anyone for that matter. He was clean cut, well dressed, and held himself proudly in spite of the handcuffs biding his wrists. There was a sort of acceptance of his situation written on his face. More than acceptance, Scully thought. It was almost as if he had known he would get caught all along.

"Let me guess. FBI," Cohen remarked, sitting in one of the plastic chairs around the table in the otherwise unfurnished interview room.

Mulder nodded in affirmation. "I'm Special Agent Mulder, this is my partner Special Agent Scully."

"Did you tell him we were coming?" Scully asked the detective, who shook his head.

"No, I didn't. This is the first time I've seen him since he was brought in. He hasn't even been here long enough to trade out his street clothes for a jumper, let alone be asking questions about the FBI," the detective admitted with a curious frown. This seemed to amuse Cohen, who leaned back in the chair smugly.

The detective dismissed himself from the room and Scully sat with her partner across from confessed criminal. "You confessed to grave robbery. That's not a federal offense, even if you are from out of state. Why did you think the FBI would get involved?" She asked.

The man leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers neatly. His confidence was both intriguing and disturbing. "I was told you'd come."

"You don't seem very nervous considering the potential severity of the crime, Cohen," Mulder pointed out. "We suspect whoever stole the body is also involved in the murder of Annette Threlkeld and potentially her sister in Texas."

Cohen shook his head, trying to fight back a smile. "Man, they really do have you chasing your tails, don't they?"

"Yeah, and frankly I don't like the sight of my own ass enough to keep playing games. Clarify things for us, Mike," Mulder requested, leaning forward. "You confessed to the grave robbery. If it wasn't you, who killed Annette Threlkeld, who did?"

The man chuckled coldly. "Tell me, do you know everyone who does everything at the FBI?"

"No," Mulder admitted.

"Well, I don't know everyone who does everything where I work either," Cohen pointed out, "But I probably know more than most."

Mulder opened his mouth, but Scully spoke first. "Your file says you're a retired army sergeant and clinical researcher for Bayer Healthcare Pharmaceuticals. I wouldn't put a veteran biochemist on my list of suspects for grave robbery."

"I wouldn't call what I did grave robbery," Cohen admitted, leaning forward in his chair across from Mulder

Mulder raised a brow. "But you confessed to the charges."

"Just because the current law calls it that doesn't mean I would."

"What would you call it, then?" Mulder asked, and the man shook his head some.

After a thoughtful moment, he finally answered. "You won't understand it, and neither will the court. Not that it matters, my we have a budget set up to bail people like me out of these circumstances."

"Don't keep me chasing my tail, Mike. What is it we won't understand?"

"Nobody but those freaks at PETA bats an eyelash when we test on rats, dogs, pigs, monkeys, whatever. But the minute we start testing on humans the whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket," Cohen explained, and Scully raised a brow.

"You're trying to tell me Bayer, the same people who make aspirin, antibiotics, chemotherapeutic drugs… you're trying to tell me that they're experimenting on human subjects in a way that requires defiling the grave of a nine year old girl?" Scully demanded, looking as disbelieving as she sounded. "I don't buy it."

Mulder watched the man carefully as he began to tap his foot. "Look, Agent Scully, I just told you. I'm a medical technologist. I'm a lab grunt. The people with the fancy degrees don't tell people like me what's going on, probably in case we run into goons like you. My job is to collect data and do at most a bare-bones analysis on it so that the people who get paid more don't waste their precious time."

"Then what was an upstanding lab grunt like you doing getting your hands dirty in a graveyard?" Mulder asked. "I don't buy your story either, Mike, and if I find you're leading us on wild goose chase I won't have any problem making sure that bail money Bayer supposedly has set aside for you gets lost, capiche?"

"Is that a threat?" Cohen challenged with a hiss, and Mulder leaned forward to return the challenge.

"No, Mike. You've got my word on that," Mulder promised. Leaning back in his chair, Cohen stared up at the ceiling and said nothing.

Scully spoke, breaking the silence. "Why did they tell you the FBI would be getting involved, Michael? You must have known something was going on when they told you."

Cohen hesitated and nodded some. "Yeah. They said you were fishing around a set of twins involved in the study who died not too long ago."

"Who did?"

"My bosses."

"You don't really work for Bayer, do you?" Mulder demanded suddenly, and the man who had been growing more nervous as the interview continued looked visibly startled.

"I… How..?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Mulder stated simply. "Now's as good at time as any to start name dropping. Who is it you're really working for, Mike? Who doesn't want us poking around in their business?"

There was another long moment of silence. "Look. I'm not saying what they're doing is right. But it's my job, you know?"

"We understand," Scully promised. "We all do things we're not proud of in our careers. And sometimes talking about it can be harmful in the long run. Right now is not one of those times, Michael. I promise you, Agent Mulder and I can help you more than your employer can right now."

Another long pause. "You won't believe me."

This time it was Mulder who had to try not to laugh as Scully spoke. "Try me."

"I... I don't work for Bayer anymore. About five years ago I was contacted by someone I knew back in my army days offering me a job as a clinical research assistant for a classified project. Something about engineering better soldiers. Like I said, I'm just a lab grunt. I don't know everything that goes on, I just do the dirty work."

Scully looked to her partner, who considered this new piece of information. "Why send a researcher to fetch a body?" Mulder asked. "Why wouldn't the army send people better trained, people who are equipped to cover their tracks?"

"I honestly don't know. Normally the samples just show up in my office, and they're never just… people. They're tissue samples, hair samples, saliva, urine, blood, sometimes x-rays and MRIs that we forward to the researchers. If a subject dies during testing it's up to the MD's to do the autopsy, I don't have that kind of training."

"So why ask you to go fetch a body, huh?" Mulder pried again. "Why you?"

"I told you, I really don't know. I just follow orders and pick up my paycheck at the end of the month. My boss told me to do it and told me not to get worried if I got caught and the FBI showed up, that he would take care of it. Normally they send out a pair of guys like you said, ones with muscles if a subject died and there needs to be an autopsy," Cohen explained with a small frown, as though he was only just now considering how odd it was that he had been sent.

"Right. Thank you for your time, Mister Cohen," Mulder said, standing and moving behind his partner to exit the interview room

Mulder walked ahead of his partner and gained distance with long, purposeful strides. Scully trotted to catch up with him. "Mulder. Mulder, wait," she urged, touching his arm when she had finally caught up to him. He stopped and turned as she spoke again. "We weren't nearly done in there! We still don't know the name of any of his superiors, or even if he as telling the truth. Everything in his file implies he's still employed with Bayer. And he still hasn't explained why he agreed to come all the way from Pennsylvania just to rob a grave. Rational people –"

"I know all that, Scully," Mulder promised, resting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "I was watching how he held himself. He's already a lot less confident than he was when we first walked in that door, I'll bet you dinner someplace nice if we come back tomorrow he'll have a lot more to say."

"Assuming he's still here tomorrow."

"He'll be here," Mulder dismissed. "Someone wants him here, Scully. Someone knows he'll have doubts and tell us everything he knows. If they wanted the job done well they would have sent those men who flashed their IDs when we were investigating the Jackson case."

"Do you think they're the muscle Cohen was talking about?"

Mulder nodded. "I'm certain of it. And I don't think they're as careless as we thought they were, Scully. I think they knew we would be investigating and were trying to raise suspicion in the community."

Scully fell silent as she considered this, thinking it was probably true. It had seemed odd at the time that members of the military would be present in southern Oregon at all, let alone so flamboyantly as to use official identification for purposes other than identification. She supposed only time would tell if her partner was right and that Cohen was less trusting in his superiors than he had initially seemed.

* * *

With a defeated groan, Mulder collapsed back onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. Scully grinned broadly. "Come on, take them off. This was your idea," she reminded him, smugly.

"You said you don't play poker!" Mulder lamented, dropping his handful of cards down onto the deck and standing.

"I said I haven't played in a long time," Scully corrected with a grin, leaning back on her hands to enjoy the view. She had admittedly underplayed her abilities when Mulder had suggested they play a round of strip poker, and was seated neatly on the bed lacking only her stockings and blouse while Mulder now stood and removed his slacks, nearly completely naked.

Mulder held out his arms, welcoming her to look shamelessly. "You win," he conceded, and Scully shook her head.

"All or nothing, Mulder," she explained, leaning forward and snapping the elastic waistband of his drawers and causing her partner to grin.

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she said, letting out a small shriek of delight when he grabbed her legs and pulled them out from under her. Scully fell onto her back and allowed Mulder to climb over her with a kiss. The kisses quickly deepened, and Scully's heart was racing when the phone suddenly rang. Mulder made no move to answer it, but the sound nagged at her until finally she untangled her hands from his hair and reached behind her to pick up the motel phone.

"Hello?" She asked into the line, trying her best to ignore her lover's rapidly southward wandering mouth and to hide her breathlessness as he slipped her skirt down off her hips.

"Hello, I'm looking for Agents Scully and Mulder."

"This is Agent Scully how may I –" She paused for a moment as her breath caught in her throat and she attempted to kick Mulder away only half heartedly. "How may I help you?"

"Agent Scully, this is Michael Cohen. We spoke earlier today about my involvement in a grave robbery," the man explained, sounding uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to call so late, it was the only time I could get phone privileges."

Scully was beginning to feel the same, but for quite different reasons. "Yes Mister Cohen, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to know what you know about my research. I was hoping you could tell me what they won't."

"I'm not sure we know much more than you do," Scully said, ending her statement more breathily than she had intended.

"If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you what you want to know," Cohen promised. "Please. I have to know what I've gotten into, Agent Scully."

Scully closed her eyes and took a small, disappointed breath. "Right. We'll be there as soon as we can," she promised before hanging up and steeling herself. "Mulder we have to go."

Mulder hummed his disapproval and kissed up her belly. "Right now? He wasn't supposed to bend until morning."

"He might lose his nerve if we make him wait," Scully pointed out, tangling her hands in his hair.

With a sigh of defeat, Mulder nodded and planted a final kiss on her lips before moving off her to dress.


	21. Chapter 21

Scully grabbed her partner by the arm stop him just before the entered the interview room. "Mulder, I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"You're the one who agreed to it, Scully," Mulder reminded her.

"Yes, but think about it. We're giving sensitive information to a man who could be much more deeply involved than he's letting on," Scully pointed out, looking into the room through the two way mirror at the man seated at the table.

"You don't really think that. You saw how uncomfortable he was, and we both know this wasn't the only time he could get to a phone. He was so anxious he used up one of his phone privileges well before the sun came up. This has been eating at him, Scully. He feels guilty."

With that, Mulder pulled away from her grasp and slipped into the interview room. Scully moved into the room behind him and sat down beside her partner reluctantly.

"Thank you for coming. It sounded like I woke you up, Agent Scully," Cohen apologized, and Scully couldn't answer in time.

"It's no trouble, we were wide away," Mulder remarked, and Scully felt the urge to drive her forehead into the desk.

"Mister Cohen, over the phone it sounded like you wanted to trade information. If we tell you what we've gathered during our investigation so far, you're going to give us the names of your superiors?" Scully asked, and the man nodded.

"Yes. I'll tell you anything you want to know," Cohen promised, shifting anxiously. "Just… Please, what were we doing experimenting on children?"

Scully took a small breath. "We know your organization has been using twins to study the effects of a drug that we suspect causes the bones to sequester metal or to otherwise somehow obtain metallic properties. These properties cause the subject to interfere with electromagnetic fields, making them what the public has termed "Sliders" due to their ability to interfere with streetlamps. We also know that the subjects are not being tested by their consent nor of their own free will; the Jackson twins did everything in their power to avoid continuing as subjects of the experiment after becoming legal adults. One of the men fled, and apparently learned to control his ability to interfere with electromagnetic fields. The other came forward with information regarding the tests and was almost immediately diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic and detained in a mental institution, where the testing continued. The twin on the run leapt from a building to his death at a university in San Diego to avoid being detained. The other apparently committed suicide not long after his brother's death, although we have reason to suspect he may have been murdered by your organization to reduce the evidence."

"As for the girls, as far as we know Claire Reynolds was in fact the victim of a pervert down in Texas, but we're not sure it's a coincidence her twin sister was murdered in the exact same manner two thousand miles away," Mulder added, leaning forward. "We don't even know if that's the case, considering you took her body before my partner here had a chance to examine the evidence."

Cohen leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a long breath. "We have a good retention rate. We only get_ maybe_ a death a year from the subjects. Car accidents, heart attacks, things like that. Always in the older patients. I didn't… I didn't even _consider_ that we might be picking off the other twin."

"How much of what we told you did you already know?" Scully asked, regarding the man carefully. He seemed genuinely anxious and disturbed by the mysterious deaths of the twins. No matter how genuine he was though, Scully couldn't help but wonder what it was his superiors were up to; they had informed him of the FBI's involvement in the case, and were surely aware that he had agreed to start giving names.

"I knew we were testing twins with a chemical that, after several years of continuous use, causes the subject to interfere with electrical activity. And I knew we were using twins. It was a double blind study. One twin got the drug, the other got a placebo. None of us knew who was getting what."

Exchanging looks with his partner, Mulder spoke. "That doesn't match what we've been told, Cohen."

"I don't know what to tell you, Agent Mulder. It's the truth."

"One of the Jackson twins told us they _both_ had Slider abilities, but that one of them was more gifted than the other."

"That's not possible. It's probably just a placebo effect."

"But double blind studies virtually eliminate the placebo effect," Scully pointed out, and Cohen nodded his agreement.

"You'd be right, if we weren't working with people as close as twins. They start in the study at a young age, and grow up watching one of them walk under lights as they go out, stall cars, things like that. It's easy for them to be standing together when it happens, and they wouldn't know which of them was responsible."

Mulder looked to Scully, and when she seemed satisfied enough with his explanation he continued. "All right Mike, now it's your turn. I want names, ranks, contact information, anything you now about who is responsible for this."

"Got a pen and paper?"

When given a legal pad, the man began to write. "Major Generals Drs. Kern and Vandruff are the guys you want to talk to. There's also a General Penn I've heard mentioned. I think he might be above them, but I'm not sure. They're the ones I answered to; I was only a first lieutenant. While you're chatting with them, let them know that I resign. Thank God for independent contracting, or I swear to God I'd desert."

* * *

"You can't be in here."

Mulder pulled his badge out of his jacket pocket and handed it to man in camouflage.

"My name is Special Agent Mulder, this is my partner Special Agent Scully, we're with the FBI."

After looking over Mulder's identification briefly, the man handed it back. "I'm sorry, you still can't be here."

"Then maybe you can help us," Scully suggested. "We're looking for Drs. Kern and Vandruff, and also General Penn if such a man exists. All we need is a few moments of their time."

"Who are these people, Sergeant?" Came a commanding voice from behind the agents. The man straightened visibly and saluted as the pair turned

"Major General Kern, Sir. They're from the –"

"Dr. Kern? Dr. Douglass Kern? Sir, it is such an honor. I didn't even realize it was you we were looking for, they never gave us your picture," Scully said, interrupting the man so suddenly even Mulder raised a brow at her. Dr. Kern was in his early forties, well built and but already graying. Scully smiled as charmingly as any love struck schoolgirl and offered her hand. "I'm Dr. Dana Scully, I've been following your work for years."

"Have you now?" The uniformed man asked, looking her over suspiciously as he shook her hand. "Which of my publishings was your favorite?"

"Oh God, do I have to pick right now? Well, the one I read most recently was on the chemical influences on electromagnetic fields, but I think my favorite is the experiment you did with those dogs. I could hardly believe the success rate! Did you really have over a hundred dogs positively take up the drug into their bones?"

Douglass Kern relaxed some and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. One hundred and seventeen, with only three deaths."

Scully put a hand over her chest and looked to the sky. "I can't tell you how much your work has inspired me, Dr. Kern. What you're doing for the biochemical industry is… it's groundbreaking, really."

"Well thank you, we've worked very hard to come as far as we have. Listen, why don't you come on back to my office for a chat, Dr. Scully. I'd love some feedback on a paper I'm writing at the moment, if you're free."

"Really? Oh Dr. Kern, it would be such a pleasure. Mulder, would you mind waiting while I talk to Dr. Kern for a bit?" Scully asked pleasantly.

It took every bit of effort not to gawk at her behavior as Mulder instead forced a smile and nodded. "I'll do you one better, I'm going to go grab lunch. Why don't you give me a call when you're through and I'll bring the car around."

Scully smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect thanks," she said before turning back to the uniformed physician, who gestured for her to walk along side him. "I can't even imagine what the next step would be after those dogs, Dr. Kern."

"Well there's a paper being peer reviewed at the moment with our study on chimps," the man explained, and Scully looked to him incredulously.

"Chimps? Really? I can't even get dogs when I want to do any research, how did you get ahold of chimps?"

"Do they let you do very much research in the Bureau, Dr. Scully?"

The petite redhead sighed and shrugged in defeat. "Not nearly as much as I would like. I do autopsies every so often that would make for a good paper, but nothing like I had thought when I joined the Bureau. For the most part I'm chasing after shadows."

"That's too bad. You seem very bright," Dr. Kern praised, letting them into his office. "Would you like a drink while I get some files out, Dr. Scully? Or would your partner not care for that much?"

"My partner? You mean Agent Mulder?" Scully asked before laughing. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong impression, Dr. Kern. And please, call me Dana."

"Dana, then. I'm sorry, he just seemed a little miffed when you sent him off is all," Dr. Kern pointed out.

"Did he? He has been acting kind of strange lately, I'll have to talk to him. I think he may be having trouble at home. He and his partner are talking about adopting a kid; Mulder wants a boy, Walter wants a girl, you know how those things go."

The officer mouthed a silent "oh" in understanding as he poured her a glass of bourbon. Scully accepted with a polite smile and sat while the man moved to a file cabinet. "Now, if you want I can walk you through the chimp study, but it's already been sent off to be peer reviewed. What I'm really interested in getting feedback in is the study I'm currently conducting."

"What can possibly be a step up from chimps? Surely the FDA hasn't approved the drug for humans?"

Dr. Kern smiled wryly at her and winked. "Why do you think I've held off on publishing. You think the dog study is groundbreaking? We've been working on humans for forty years."

Scully stared at him in disbelief. "Dr. Kern, there's no way you're over thirty yourself."

The man chuckled some at the compliment and leaned back in his chair. "I'm forty five, but thank you. I was assigned to the project about nine years ago when my colleague Dr. Vandruff read some of my papers. He was having extremely slow results. After I came on board data started flowing in from all over."

"What did you manage to do differently?"

"His dosages were off, and the subjects weren't coming in frequently enough. It was easy enough to have them in once a year when they were kids; we just slipped the medication into their round of vaccines et voila. They come back a year later, we collect our data, and shoot them up again. The problem was when the subjects got older, around eighteen or so. They went off to college were employed in places without health insurance and stopped going to the doctor all together. New measures had to be implemented to keep the attrition rate high enough to analyze. As I'm sure you know, at least thirty subjects in each the control and test category are needed to perform a reliable statistical analysis. We went from zero to fifty in the two years since I came onboard. We're now up to almost one hundred," he smiled proudly, pushing a file towards the redhead.

"That's quite impressive, Dr. Kern," Scully smiled, taking the file and flipping through it before standing and pulling her gun out of its holster. "Now if you would kindly place your hands on your head, I am placing you under arrest for violation of FDA procedure and illegal use of human subjects in an experiment."

* * *

"I didn't know you were such a big fan of Dr. Kerns'," Mulder remarked as they watched the officer lower his head to step into the back of a police vehicle.

Scully folded her arms in satisfaction. "I'm not. I read two of his articles while you were sleeping on the plane. This third one is going in the evidence locker," Scully added, holding up the file for her partner to take before pulling her dictaphone out of her pocket. "As is this."

"What's that?"

"I hit record while we were walking towards his office. I caught him stating his crimes on audio, along with the unpublished journal article," she explained. When Mulder moved to take it, Scully quickly tucked the recording device away.

"Come on, I want to the tape."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Mulder," Scully remarked, walking towards the car.

"Well why not?" Mulder asked, following close behind.

Scully hesitated as she stepped into the car. "I _might_ have suggested you were gay."

"_What?_"

"With Skinner," she added. Mulder's head literally reeled as he stood in the open door of the car. "Would you get inside please, you look ridiculous," Scully scolded, reaching over to grab the hem of his coat and pull him inside.

"You told him I was gay for _Skinner_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He saw how jealous you were when I sent you off, I wanted to put him back in his comfort zone. It was obvious he was a lady's man, he would have closed right up if he knew anything about the two of us," Scully explained.

"Yeah… but _Skinner_?" Mulder asked again in utter disgust.

"First name that came to mind. And you're adopting a baby. Congratulations," she praised, eyes shining as Mulder grumbled and turned the keys in the ignition. They had driven for nearly ten minutes before Mulder spoke again.

"I wasn't jealous."

Scully looked to him with a raised brow. "Oh?"

"Not a bit. I knew what you were playing at," he lied, and Scully nodded some, looking forward again.

"Ah. Well, you had me fooled. I felt kind of bad, too. I was going to find a way to make it up to you when we got back to the motel."

Mulder changed his tune so quickly Scully couldn't help but laugh. "I was jealous," he admitted. "Totally jealous. I would have kicked his ass if he and that sergeant weren't both armed."

"Hey Mulder," Scully said, earning his attention. When she held up the dictaphone and played back his voice admitting to his jealousy with a smirk.

"… You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Never."

As Mulder parked outside of the motel, he turned off the ignition and was quiet for a moment. "You know what I just realized?"

Scully tipped her head expectantly, and Mulder continued, looking to her. "We never got to the bottom of our Sumerian caller."

-_fin-_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone SO much for reading! It means a whole lot more to me than I could ever express. Given enough requests I might consider doing another X-Files fic, but to be honest this one only came about due to some strange things that happened in my life a few months back. Would you like to see another X-File? If so, would you want it to be a continuation of the relationship I've set up here? Would you like to see our favorite Agents' romance start fresh? Let me know! I will take all suggestions into consideration. In the mean time, my literary focus will be on the original story I've started on my fictionpress account. There are definitely going to be some supernatural elements involved, so if that's what you're into feel free to take a look! The summary is wretched and I only have one chapter up, but I'm really excited to get the ball rolling. Again, thank you all for reading!

- Erin


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